


Secrets From Dreams

by Dirthenera



Series: Thenera Lavellan [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: ALL THE CONSENT, Active Consent, Eventual Smut, F/M, I'm scared to write the smut, Kinda AU?, Lavellan from our world, Modern Girl in Thedas, Mutual Pining, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Snark, So Much Snark, Solavellan, Solavellan Hell, Switch Solas, Wingman Varric, the slowest of burns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 90
Words: 103,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dirthenera/pseuds/Dirthenera
Summary: Solavellan Hell. Self insert because of who I am as a person.  Can the same soul be echoed in different worlds? When the Fade spans the realm of magic and dreams, could it pull exactly the person Thedas needs through dreams?She wakes to find herself in a familiar place, with familiar people. When she sleeps she's a different person in a different world, obsessing over Dragon Age.  As a terrible liar, how will Thenera handle knowing more than she should? Knowing Solas' secrets, can she change things? Should she try?Terrible slow burn because of how Solas is. I regret nothing.





	1. Waking? Or Dreaming?

**Author's Note:**

> 100% Self insert. I have a lot of chronic pain issues and just recently started playing during a bad flare up. I'm completely obsessed, and this is the first fic I've written in like... ten years. Of course I had to fall for the dumb sad egg with his snark and painting and stupid melodic voice. It's A Problem. 
> 
> Anyways, recently I haven't been able to remember my dreams, which is very unusual for me. So I really hope this is what I'm actually dreaming.

The first thing she noticed was that everything hurt. Well, that wasn’t exactly unusual. The pain in her hand was unusual though, and she tried to remember why, but nothing came to mind. She blearily opened her eyes, and looked into a space that looked wholly foreign, but… somehow familiar?

She tried to remember how she got there… Or, anything really. It felt like looking through a fogged mirror at a forked path, both blurry and indistinct. Her head pounded and she raised her aching hand to hopefully relieve both pains with some judiciously applied pressure, and a rough voice shouted as a green light filled the edge of her blurry vision.

“The prisoner is awake Lady Cassandra!” He called.

Wait. A guard? And… this was a cell. And… Cassandra? Too familiar. She forced her eyes to focus, and she saw the green light crackling, the same color as the pain in her hand. Something lit up on one of those forked paths. _The anchor_ , she remembered. She saw a smiling face, and then her mind recoiled from the memory, snapping back into a fog and pounding with it. There was also something else there, down the other fork? A campfire full of familiar faces, laughing and trading songs and old stories over the days hunt. That fork hurt less. _Lavellan._

She didn’t have time to think about it more before she was hauled roughly from the cell and a tray of food was shoved at her, and she tore into it ravenously. Her hand crackled in pain, glowing. _The anchor_ , her mind insisted again with a twinge. She finished the food and gulped down the cup of water the guard offered, not realizing just how parched she was until the food scraped against her throat.

She saw two women enter, dressed in armor and eerily familiar. _Cassandra, a friend. Leliana, a trusted ally._ She looked up in hopeless confusion as her mind played the words a heartbeat before Cassandra could speak them.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now. The conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended it is dead. Except for you.”

“You think I’m responsible?” Her voice floated out in front of her. It sounded strange to her own ears. Hers. And yet… Not.

“Explain. This.” Cassandra grabbed her marked hand, and images flashed through her mind. Her hand connecting with a rift. Burning bodies surrounded by slag. A creature of immense power, glowing red, looming over her. A gentle laugh that stirred her soul. A broken orb. Pain.

“I… Can’t.” The images were moving too fast, dizzying. And still, her mind echoed Cassandra’s words before they were spoken.

“What do you mean you can’t?!” Cassandra was enraged. Truly, she should be afraid, but she heard an echo of her own oddly unfamiliar voice. _Cassandra’s like that with everyone._

“I don’t know what that is or how it got there!” The pieces would fit together but there was so much, too much to process and everything ached.

“You’re lying!”

“We need her, Cassandra!” Leliana cut in. _She always was the voice of reason. Brutal, unyielding reason._ Her hands were carefully placed behind her back. In control. The images flashed to what must have happened before, and the screaming bodies surrounded by slag.

“All those people, dead?” Her stunned voice broke. Why did this feel like a dream but not? Why was it so familiar?

“Do you remember what happened? How this began?” Leliana asked, gently. A few pieces fell into place.

“I remember running… things were chasing me. And then… a woman?” She glowed. _A spirit. You will meet again_.

“A woman?” Leliana asked. Her silent questions hung in the air like a prayer. _She believes it to be Andraste._

“She reached out to me. But then?” There was a tear, and she fell through. Pearls of memory to chase later.

“Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift.” Cassandra said.

“What did happen?” What was real?

“It will be easier to show you.” With her lips set in a thin line, they went outside.

She felt the maw before she saw it. The breach. _A mournful wolf’s devouring gape_. Her gaze drew up, unable to stay away, and she felt the link between it and the mark on her hand. Her mind screamed at the pieces scattered, filling her with dread, and the strangest sense of… adventure? Promise?

“We call it the breach. It’s a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour. It’s not the only such rift, just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the conclave.” Cassandra explained. She knew. She didn’t know how, but she knew.

“An explosion can do that do that?” The words tumbled from her mouth before she could stop them. Familiar. She had heard them before, but from outside herself?

“This one did. Unless we act, the breach may grow until it swallows the world.” Cassandra’s brows knitted together. The maw pulled at her again, and her hand responded, tearing her open and replacing pieces of her with pulsing, crackling pain. _This will kill you, but not yet._

“Each time the breach expands, your mark spreads, and it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn’t much time.“ Cassandra turned to her, small movements different than expected, only increasing the uneasy déjà vu.

“I understand.” She felt the path stretch out before her and knew the steps. She felt the choices open up ahead, unnerved but certain.

“Then..?” Cassandra choked back hope.

“I’ll do what I can. Whatever it takes.” Cassandra nodded in approval, and began walking with her towards the breach.

They made their way through town. Haven. The mutters of townspeople reached her ears as they walked, harsh. Calling her knife ear, traitor, murderer. Her brows furrowed.

“They have decided your guilt. They need it. The people of Haven mourn our most holy, Divine Justinia. We lash out at the sky, but we must think beyond ourselves, like she did. Until the breach is sealed.” She said the last part as much for herself, taking a steady breath and releasing some of her anger.

“There will be a trial. I can promise no more. Come, it is not far.” She didn’t ask where they were going. She knew.


	2. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thenera meets Varric and Solas, and things start making a little more sense.

“Quickly, before more come through!”

He grabbed her hand and lifted it to the rift. The energy rushed out from inside her, somehow both deafening and serene, painful and desperately cleansing. It felt like a freezing winter wind snapping through every part of her being and leaving her clear. All the pieces fell into place. This was a dream of something she loved. Something she had played many times. The other world was faint and far away here, and this one had never been so real. She even had memories of aravels and hunting for her clan. She hoped, desperately, that she would remember this when she woke. She glanced in awe at the elf who now held her hand. Not fair, his cheekbones were even better in person. And even though all of this was his fault, his smile broke through the haze and she was suddenly, solidly, here. Not dreamlike anymore. Maybe the other world was the dream? But then how could she explain knowing so many of his secrets?

They had pushed through demons, thankfully finding a bow on the way. She had wondered what it would be, but now that she remembered the other world, it made sense. She looked up at him and didn’t even know what to say.

“Whatever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that opened in the breach’s wake. And it seems I was correct.” He said. His posture was much more humble than she remembered. An affectation? Or a variance?

“Meaning it could also close the breach itself.” Cassandra added.

“Possibly. It seems you hold the key to our salvation.” He held his hands in front of himself carefully, full of hope and good cheer. She knew it was only for the safety of the anchor, but her stomach still did a stupid little flip. Luckily, Varric interrupted her mooning before anything suspicious could be noted. Definitely not a good time for it, surrounded by death and destruction.

“Good to know. And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” He fiddled with Bianca, and she smiled. The first real smile since coming here. It would be ok.

Introductions were made, and she grinned at Varric, despite Solas’ protestations. Except then it was her turn. And she had no idea. Wait. Dreams. Uthenera, the enchanted sleep of the ancient elves. Thenera would do, if she was to be a dreamer in this world.

“Thenera Lavellan, of Clan Lavellan.”

“I am pleased to see you still live.” Solas smiled, the very picture of a humble apostate. Ah, affectation.

“He means: I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.” Varric added wryly.

“Well then I suppose I should thank you.” She…. Thenera, said, matching Varric’s wry tone. She knew it would be a long day yet, but longer with only Cassandra’s dour sensibilities. Also. Kinda his fault the mark was killing her in the first place. Kinda.

“Thank me if we manage to close the breach without killing you in the process.” He said solemnly, and turned to Cassandra. “Cassandra, you should know. The magic involved here is unlike any I’ve seen. Your prisoner is no mage. Indeed, I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” 

“Well. Bianca’s excited.” And Varric strode off without explaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, but gonna upload the next one right now!


	3. Facing Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Going to visit the Temple of Sacred Ashes! Yay! It'll be loads of fun!

The Temple of Sacred Ashes. Which had been reduced to ashes. Probably sacred ones given all the Chantry. She wrinkled her nose at her ill-timed thoughts, clashing horribly with the horror and smell around her. Well. Laughing was better than crying. Or, more accurately, going into shock and getting killed while a gibbering mess. Now to face a pride demon. And hopefully live. She checked the elfroot potions she had been given. Four left. It would have to be enough.

“Solas?” She asked, a touch timid. She had dropped to the back of the group as they approached the rift, and she could feel it pulling against the anchor.

“Yes? How may I help you?” He dropped slightly behind as well, though not far enough to raise any eyebrows. His mood had soured considerably after seeing the wreckage of the temple, and she couldn't blame him.

“I think… this one going to be much worse than the others.” She answered, and his brows raised, almost imperceptibly.

“I imagine you are correct. How do you know?” She gave a slight wave of her marked hand in response. “Ah. How can I assist?”

She gritted her teeth.

“I’m not sure I’m strong enough for this. This one feels… Too big. Like it will swallow me. And… The tear is deeper. I think we may get much stronger demons than we’ve faced yet, and I will need to focus on disrupting the rift, though I’ll shoot when I can.”

“I see. In that case, I will make sure you have a barrier to protect you as often as I am able.”

“Um. Actually, could you please focus them on Cassandra and whoever else is taking damage?” She saw his questioning look and added, “I have a very bad habit of putting myself in the line of fire if others get hurt. I can evade relatively well unless I’m actively disrupting, or others are in danger.”

Solas’ face was unreadable for a moment.

“Then give me a signal when you are ready to disrupt, and otherwise I will cover the melee fighters. However, if you were to die without sealing the breach, we are all doomed. If it becomes necessary to focus on keeping you alive, I will.” She breathed a sigh of relief. Having a plan? Good.

They came around the corner and saw the breach, and the rift beneath it, the first. She turned a moment before Leliana joined them with archers and warriors. That would be useful.

“Leliana, have your men take up positions around the temple.” Cassandra said. The redhead nodded and wordlessly dispatched her archers to what would undoubtedly be the best positions.

“This is your chance to end this.” Cassandra’s stern gaze fell on her. Thenera nodded, grim line turning into a wry smile.

“We’ll need to find a different vantage point though. I can’t reach it from here.”

“This rift was the first. It is the key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the breach.” Solas offered.

“Then lets find a way down.” Cassandra stated with determination.

They worked their way around the balcony, and when they came across the red lyrium, it was though she was seeing it for the first time. It whispered. The glow was very nearly painful to look at. It felt as though it was shedding a splintered miasma that touched every sense and more. She tried not to breathe it in after tasting cloying bitterness on her tongue. It smelled… wrong. Like poison must. She would have avoided it with or without Varric’s warning.

And then she heard it. She expected the voice, but it still somehow surprised her. The voice that had seemed too big, even in those shadows of this world, it had boomed ominously. She shuddered. She could nearly feel the red lyrium in his voice, swirling a miasma of dread with each word. Justinia’s voice came as well, and hers, foreign to her ears still. The anchor throbbed in her palm. She stilled herself and waited for it to be over. 

Cassandra asked something, but the anchor had flared, and she could only hear the roar of the rift and the anchor’s responding cry. The pain was intense, but it was only pain. She watched the replay, knowing she would have no memory. The anchor’s surge subsided with the ghostly images. Even this echo of Corypheus felt wrong, to her bones.

“You were there! Who attacked! And the Divine, is she… Was this vision true? What are we seeing here?” Cassandra turned on Thenera.

“I don’t remember, Cassandra.” The tension of the anchor needing to pull the rift shut grated. She hissed it, harsher than intended.

“Echoes of what happened here. The fade bleeds into this place. This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the mark, the rift can be opened, and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side.” Thank whatever gods for Solas. Oh, right. Thank Fen’Harel. If you should thank a god for being a voice of reason when they accidentally unleash doom on the world. You know, other than the intentional doom on the world. She took a few calming breaths, and looked for a good vantage point, and nodded it to Solas. He would help them get through this mess.

“That means demons! Stand ready!” At Cassandra’s words, soldiers took up positions. She stood in front, of course, and Thenera couldn’t help but worry. There were no resurrections here, no button to press to raise a fallen party member. They would have to be smart, much smarter than she preferred to fight in the game. Not only that, but the vantage point she had spotted? She wouldn’t be able to disrupt the rift from there. Gulp. No time to show weakness.

She held her head high, far too close under the rift, and raised the anchor. Opening it felt strange after closing several, like expecting still water and getting bubbly. It felt… Well, bubbly, actually. The rift tore open and a Pride demon appeared, just as she had been expecting. And directly between her and the vantage point she had pointed out to Solas, which she had not.

Thenera gritted her teeth and raised her hand, hoping she would at least be able to disrupt the rift and sneak past while it was stunned, when she felt the barrier coalesce around her, cool and refreshing. She shot a relieved grin at Solas before the anchor connected to the rift again, flooding through her body and rooting her to the spot.

After a few agonizing seconds unable to move or help, watching as the demon laughed at the warriors battling it, the rift released her with crack, and the demon was now the one paralyzed. She ran desperately to a ledge where she would be close to the disruption zone, and began to lay arrows into it.

She wasn’t sure they were doing much, but with so many archers, turning it to a pincushion should be enough as the warriors hacked at the demon’s legs, trying to pierce its thick hide. And then it stretched, laughing, and lashed out with a crackling whip. Warriors dove away, Cassandra deftly dodged and brought up another strike on it’s Achilles, being unable to reach much higher than its knees.

And there were more demons spilling out now, but the rift wasn’t coalescing yet, wasn’t ready for the anchor to pull it apart. Too many. They spilled out and began to flank the warriors.  
She drew and took aim, and black ichor sprayed as her arrows connected. Not quite flesh, the arrows impacted and tore. But there were so many.

They harried the warriors, and some broke off to attack the ranged fighters. One headed towards Varric, but luckily, Bianca seemed well equipped for this sort of work, and the dwarf moved with surprising agility. Two headed straight for her, and one for Solas. Shit. He was still weak from his uthenera.

“Fenedhis.” She whispered to herself, and drew again. She sunk a couple arrows into the one closest to her, slowing it, and saw that Solas didn’t have a lot of time before the one heading his way hit. She changed targets. After the third arrow, it turned its attention to her. She felt a thrill of victory. Stupid, stupid victory.

The barrier was long gone. She now had three demons approaching her, and the Pride demon seemed barely injured. Cassandra cried out in pain, but there was no time to turn. Distantly, she heard Solas’ voice. She raised her bow and shot. The one closest fell, dissipating into sticky ichor. Oh good. It wouldn’t take 500 hits to kill these. She took a deep breath and pulled the bowstring back. Sloppy aim would get her killed. Three breaths before it got to her. She loosed the arrow, and drew again as quickly as she could and sunk another in, staggering back. Too close. She turned to run, and it caught her on the shoulder, sending her sprawling and sinking terrible black energy into her. She scrambled to get up, but the precious seconds it took left her open. It struck her. The armor she wore, however basic, took the edge off the hit, but the foul miasma clung to her, making her breath rasp and catch.

The anchor flared. The rift was coalescing, and there were two demons trained on her, and one was too close to draw on. Fuck this single class bullshit.

A barrier wrapped around her and she could have kissed Solas. She shoved the mark up towards the rift, demon bouncing harmlessly away from her. A burst of magic from Solas’ staff hit it, tearing a chunk of its body away like smoke, and another.

The rift released again, and bolstering cries sounded from the warriors. Thenera backed away, raising her bow, and the now paralyzed demon who had been a hairsbreadth from having her dead to rights dissipated with a sickening sound. She felt a grim satisfaction as she aimed her bow towards the other one, but as she did, it burst in a wet sound with a blast of magic.

She nodded thanks towards Solas and turned her head towards the remaining battle to take stock. Some of Leliana’s men were beginning to show strains from the battle, but at the fore, Cassandra gleamed. She must have taken a potion. The pride demon was covered in trickles of ichor, and only a few of the lesser shades remained, all frozen in place and twitching against the disruption of the rift. She picked them off, silently coordinating with Varric and Solas to take them out efficiently.

By the time the demons recovered from the disruption, it was demon, singular. She checked its damage. The streams of ichor seemed deeper around it’s joints, where the hide was weaker. She aimed, and took a breath, releasing when she got her opening.

The arrow sunk nearly to the fletching into its armpit, and Thenera smiled. It was possible. They could win, and just might.

“Aim for the joints!” She called over the din of battle, trying to cast her voice to Solas and Varric in particular, and maybe even Leliana’s archers.

It was beginning to move sluggishly, and every burst of magic from Solas’ staff ate at its armor, and Varric’s crossbow bolts bit deep.

Cassandra roared and pressed mercilessly into its shins, legs now a mess of shuddering goo. Thenera could just barely see the shimmering blue light of the barrier around her and the warriors closest. She loosed more arrows into weak bits, hoping it was helping. Its laughter still bounced eerily through the ruins, the pride it embodied not allowing a show of weakness.

She felt a tug on the anchor and looked up to see more demons emerging. Crap. Not this again.  
The rift pulled and coalesced again. She called out to Solas, but he had already felt it, and she felt the cool reassurance envelop her again. She raised her hand and allowed the anchor to connect. It was weakening. 

The demons streamed out, and they sowed chaos as they flanked and harassed, and menaced towards the ranged fighters. Including her.

When the rift released her, she downed one of the potions, and began shooting as quickly as she was able without sacrificing her accuracy. One-two-three, one-two-three-four, one-two as they fell. In a familiar pattern, they recovered from the disruption. She saw a warrior struggling and put the demon harrying him down next. Maybe she wasn’t terrible at this battle thing. Though she had barely weakened the main combatant personally.

The pride demon’s whip crackled again, and her gaze shot to Cassandra’s cry. Damnit. She couldn’t tell the extent of the injury from here, but Cass was definitely not doing so hot. Shit. They had to finish this soon. Luckily, she swigged another potion from her belt and stood a little straighter.

There were still smaller ones, and more streaming towards her. She gritted her teeth and another barrier rose around her. Instead of Cassandra. Damnit Solas. Well. If she could take hits, she could be a little bolder. She shot the one heading for Varric as he bounded away nimbly for higher ground, finishing it with a bolt from Bianca.

Her fingers and arms began to ache from the constant pressure of the bow being drawn. She focused on it, letting it ground her and dismissed it. Help Cassandra. She had two smaller demons on her as she continued to press the pride demon. Thenera drew a steady breath and aimed carefully. There was no toggle for friendly fire here. She loosed and missed, luckily erring on the side of caution. Second strike landed cleanly, and one of them dropped. There were two demons still heading towards Thenera, but she had at least 3 strikes left before they reached her, and the barrier still pulsed around her. Another clean shot. The next missed, barely missing Cassandra. Shit. Because more adrenaline was definitely needed and helpful. She exhaled shakily and loosed the last shot before she would have to run. It found its mark, and Cassandra was no longer flanked. Because it turned towards her.

The barrier flickered and released. Fuck. Time to run.

Thenera forced her shaking legs to move. She directed the adrenaline and her steps flew, steady and sure, despite the muscle shake. She ran around the great pillar in the center of the ruin, and felt the rift begin to coalesce, and tug on the anchor. She pushed the thought aside and bounded through the scorched rubble. The demons were fast, but her feet were sure. She gained on them. She made it around, planning to join Solas at the vantage point she had originally planned; only there were another two demons in the way. Shit. How many were there to start??? Definitely need to learn to count, genius. She braced and fired at the ones in her way. Two arrows and the one furthest from Solas and closest to her fell. Another swipe of terrible black energy hit her in the back, and she stumbled forward, managing to turn it into graceless run that took her far enough away to take aim again.

She shot as fast as she could, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough. She only managed to get one arrow off before it was on her again. It knocked her to the ground, and her arrows spilled out across the still hot stone. She scrambled back. The other two were almost to her. She made it to her feet just as the rift reformed, pulling her focus for a crucial split second, and she was back on the ground, foul miasma seeping into her bruised ribs. Too much at once. No weapons, no way to run, no time to down a potion.

And another barrier rose over her. The relief was so palpable it stung her eyes, and as she swigged a potion as the nearest demon popped with a flash of magic and a wet sound. Bolts tore into the next one, and hope surged. She heard a scream from the pride demon, and saw it fall. Arrows forgotten, she ran to the rift and raised her hand. It connected, and the last bits of resistance frayed. She felt rather than saw the last of the smaller demons dissipate, and a fierce grin split her face as the rift pulled shut, so much harder than any of the others, and a sweltering blanket of blackness sucked her down as she did.

\-----

She awoke in her own bed, snuggled by cats, with just the vaguest idea that she’d dreamt of Dragon Age. Looked like it was going to be a bad pain day. Lovely.  
For some odd reason… She couldn’t sleep much for the next few nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first action scene I've ever written! I hope you like it! A friend (Who I'm co-writing Punching Pride with, who I read to aloud) has said I should do an audio version of them. What do you think?


	4. Differences

Thenera woke slowly, her stomach and dry throat forcing her movement more than any desire to stop sleeping. The threads of dreams that didn’t seem like dreams slipped away to old memories half remembered. She ran a hand through her hair.

WHAT THE FUCK. WHAT THE FUCK WHERE IS THE REST OF IT. She panicked and sat up with a start, bringing her other hand up to confirm, and was shocked to see a green light emanating from her hand.

Right. Deep breaths. It’s ok.

An elven servant startled and ran to tell Cassandra. She said something polite and reassuring, but was too distracted by her hair to give it much thought. Shit. It hadn’t been shoulder length in years and years, and frustrated tears welled before she realized how hangry she must be, to be crying over short hair she should have expected.

A glass of water and some dried fruit had been graciously placed by the bedside, and she devoured them with relish, trying to piece together her exact circumstances.

She remembered the Temple, slag still hot enough to distort the air that rose. The feeling of the anchor connecting with a rift. The way that last one had dragged her into unconsciousness as it closed. Three days. You’ve been unconscious three days. No wonder you’re starving. 

Also… She looked down at the slender elven frame she was used to seeing from the outside, white silver hair falling in front of her her eye as she did. Weird. No wonder she had felt so light on her feet, and a little unbalanced. Her hands, thankfully, looked the same, other than having a short natural nail. It felt both familiar and unfamiliar, like looking back at the two forks of her memories. 

In one, she was buxom, well muscled, and falling apart, and in the other she was long and lithe and much stronger than she appeared. She searched memories for what her face looked like. Oh good. Familiar, just as she had made for herself, similar but not the same. Pale skin the same in both. High cheekbones, a long, straight nose, full lips. She remembered the pride in her heart as Mythal’s mark was etched into her face in pale mulberry, the same pride that kept her from showing the smallest signs of pain as the Keeper worked. New knowledge washed over her with frustration. But that was a choice for later, if she even got to make it.

She got up and tested her legs. Seemed she was just little sore, but well rested. She poured another glass of water, downed it, found and used the chamberpot, and looked for something to wear. She found her clothes from the temple laundered and laid out neatly, and she got dressed and prepared to go meet Cassandra. She placed her hand on the doorknob, and hesitated as she remembered what waited. Awkward. She carried her head high, took a deep breath, and opened the door to her first day as the Herald of Andraste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... My hair is actually mid thigh length and I have nightmares about cutting it and instantly regretting it, and realizing it'll be like ten years to get it back to the current length. Hence the freak out.


	5. Conversations and Admissions

Things at the Chantry had gone as expected. Blah blah blah, Chantry asshole. Blah blah Inquisition. Blah blah storming out in a huff. A lot of stuff about the mages and templars. Knowing already that she would choose the mages made it feel a little pointless. Though it was wonderful meeting Josie, and Cullen too she supposed, though he was still a little Captain Whitebread for her tastes.

She had eaten at the tavern, pointedly ignoring the whispers, and nearly cried at the crusty bread and rich cheese that had come with the hearty stew. In her dreaming life, she could have neither, and so she relished both thoroughly, hoping those things had stayed with her other body, with her failing joints. By the end of the meal, she felt wonderful, and nearly cried again. She left, paying with the coin Josephine had given her, and decided to walk Haven.

She found her feet pulling her the direction she knew she’d find Solas. Though it was idiotic to expect to find him standing out in the cold in his foot wraps that left his toes and heels bare. She paused, thinking about what to tell him. Lying wouldn’t work, he was far too smart and she was a terrible liar. But then, he had deceived everyone without lying more than a couple times. Yea. Take a page out of his book. Saw it in a dream, instead of the Fade.

When he wasn’t to be found standing about, she visited the alchemist. Where he just happened to be, of course. Her mouth turned up in a half smile without being able to stop it.

“Ah! The Chosen of Andraste. A blessed hero sent to save us all.” He greeted wryly.

“Feel like I should be riding a griffon.” Thenera wrinkled her nose, despite the obvious amusement in her voice. He chuckled, and it just wasn’t fair.

“Sadly, they’re extinct, of I would have suggested just such a thing.” He paused, a hint of a smile warming his face. “Joke if you must, but posturing is necessary. May we speak elsewhere?”

“Absolutely, I had been hoping to speak with you.” He arched a brow and led her to his cabin. They waved goodbye to the alchemist. She would have to go back, but luckily, his cabin was just a door away. It was clearly not a home, or especially well lived in, with just a couple books and a pack resting on the desk. He waved her towards the desk and she sat.

“I’ve journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations. I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars both famous and forgotten.” His voice slid over her skin. Right. That’s why she fell for him every damn time. “Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

She hoped she managed to turn the drifting look into one of concentration.

“Ancient battlefields? Ruins? Do you really see such things in the Fade?” She may know the answer, but listening to him talk was good. So good. His words harmonized with the memory of them and she stopped herself from shivering.

“Any building strong enough to withstand the rigors of time has a history. Every battlefield is steeped in death. Both attract spirits. They press against the veil, weakening the barrier between our worlds. When I dream in such places, I go deep into The Fade. I can find memories no other living being has ever seen.” His voice lilted like poetry, and she wondered if that was normal for ancient elves or if that silver tongue was his particular gift.

“You sleep there? You must enjoy living dangerously.” She quirked a brow at him with an amused smile.

“I do set wards. And if you leave food out for the giant spiders, they are usually content to live and let live.” Yuck. Giant spiders. Right. That was gonna be a thing. She was real glad she had a bow this time. He saw her nose scrunch and chuckled. “You face down demons confidently, yet spiders make you squirm?”

“They’re… Icky. Demons any day.” She stubbornly locked eyes with him, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. She turned her tone thoughtful, tilting her head to the side. “I’ve never heard of someone going so deep into the fade before. Certainly not in my clan.”

“Thank you. It’s not a common field of study, for obvious reasons. Not so flashy as throwing fire or lightning. The thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything.”

“I wish I possessed such a gift.” Thenera said wistfully.

“Perhaps, given your name, it is a skill that will come with time. Why choose that name?” He asked.

“Why Solas? Is it a warning or a reminder?” She returned. He inclined his head in acknowledgement. A touch in a fencing match

“Why couldn’t it be both?” He returned, offering nothing dressed as something. “I am sorry to have pried. I should have realized it would be quite personal.”

“It’s alright.” She didn’t offer more, not yet, and Solas let it rest.

“I will stay then. At least until the breach has been closed.”

“Was that in question?” She asked. _I had resolved myself to flee. You changed… Everything_. A ghost of his voice played. Dumb smooth elf. Gonna be the death of me.

“I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.” His bitterness at the state of magic in this world was palpable, and well earned.

“You came to help, and you saved my life. I won’t let them twist that against you, Solas.” She offered simply.

“How will you stop them?” His voice was soft, not expecting a real answer.

“However I could. Stand in front of you, if need be.” She held his gaze to show the sincerity of her words, and shrugged a little. “If they’re going to use me as their Herald, they can’t kill me until I’ve fulfilled my purpose. All bets are off after that, considering what they did to Andraste. But... I can be a shield until then.”

“Thank you.” His smile was warm, gaze letting her know he meant it, too. “But now, let us hope that either the mages or templars have the power to seal the breach.” She nodded, and silence fell. She wasn’t ready to leave the only person who just might understand.

“I have… Odd dreams. I don’t think I could ever become a dreamer, I’m not even sure my dreams occur in The Fade. ...if that’s possible.” She offered after a moment. His brows furrowed, caught between interest and dismissal.

“All dreaming happens in the Fade. What would lead you to believe yours does not?”

“The Fade shows you pieces of the past, yes?” Thenera asked. Solas nodded, urging her to continue. “I dream little pieces of the future.”

“That… Should not be possible.” He said. She shrugged and waited. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he replayed their interactions the day they stabilized the rift.

“It… Might explain some things. Though there are simpler explanations.”

“Probably.” She offered. “Maybe it’s just really bad deja vu. You don’t have to believe me, Solas. But that’s why I chose this name.” He realized his mistake, though he could not quite stop looking at her like someone would look at a particularly fascinating puzzle.

“I am sorry for the questions. I see it is in fact deeply personal, and I would relish the chance to learn more if you are willing.” She nodded, and shook off the heaviness.

“Why don’t you buy me a drink first next time?” She winked to lighten the mood, and he chuckled.

“I should get going while we’re on a high note. Besides, I do actually need to visit the alchemist. What is his name again? I am terrible with names.” She rose, and Solas followed suit.

“Adan. Thank you for the conversation.” Solas offered, and she smiled to him and walked out of the door. This miiiiiight be harder than expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I have like... 35 chapters written so far, and I'll be posting as I feel like they're polished enough to do so. Comments might persuade me to post faster!


	6. Dalish Problems

The Hinterlands was, blissfully, only a day’s ride from Haven. Though the riding became difficult after the first couple hours, the company was wonderful. They stopped to close a few rifts on the way, the anchor pulsing each time one was near, and besides the demons, it was a desperately needed chance to stretch. 

Something in Cassandra had loosened after the breach was stabilized, and she no longer talked about imprisoning both her and Varric. Varric responded to the change of tone by telling stories while they rode. With doom and gloom all around them, he told stories that were lighthearted and ridiculous. Cassandra predictably made disgusted noises at appropriate intervals, and Solas chimed in with a few words scattered here and there, surely to keep him from appearing too aloof to the woman who could have him thrown in chains. Thenera threw in her own story occasionally, drawing from both her Dalish history and her dream life, which seemed to be more entwined than she previously realized.

When at last they made camp, she was horribly saddle sore. In her Dalish life, she had ridden Halla, yes, but not for such long periods of time. Aravels were used for longer journeys. She wished she could enjoy Scout Harding’s introduction, but her brain fogged from the focus needed to ignore her screaming muscles.

“You ok there?” Varric asked. “You look a little like you might fall over. Hurting?”

“Hurting implies I can feel my backside. Which hasn’t been the case for hours.” She groaned, and started stretching to head off tomorrow’s hurt. She whimpered when she realized that she’d have to get back on the horse tomorrow. Varric chuckled.

“Not used to riding long periods, Lavellan?” Cassandra asked. Thenera shook her head miserably.

“Why don’t you take a potion?” Solas offered. Her eyes lit and she released an only slightly crazed smile as she waddled to retrieve one.

It was magic. Well, literally, it was magic. But it felt like it too. It lapped through her sore spots like the tide, warming and cooling by intervals, until the muscles melted and the skin that felt just a little raw rejuvenated. She sighed happily, not caring who saw the heavy lidded bliss on her face, and she sunk to the ground. 

Oh no. Next problem. She had no idea how to set up the Shem tents they had packed. She sat up abruptly.

“So… I’m not sure if you’re aware of this, but the Dalish don’t use tents like these. Help please?”

Varric burst out laughing.

“The Herald of Andraste, ladies and gentlemen!” He got out. Cassandra shot him a sour look.

“I would be happy to teach you, Herald.” She supplied.

“Thank you.” 

After the tents were set up, Solas went about setting wards, Varric and Cassandra made a fire, and Thenera went hunting. Wildlife was plentiful here, and though ram meat sounded delightful, she settled on nugs, so that she’d actually be able to get them back to the camp herself. She cleaned them far enough away to keep bears at a safe distance, and returned with three ready to cook.

“Who’s cooking?” She asked warily.

“I certainly can.” Cassandra offered.

“Don’t take her up on that unless you like the taste of burned charcoal.” Varric responded helpfully as Cassandra hmphed.

“How about you Varric?” She asked, brow quirked in challenge.

“I’m a city dweller, it’s probably not the smartest idea.” He offered with an apologetic shrug.

“I am capable.” Solas stated. “I often cook for myself as I find new places to search the memories of the fade.” 

“Mmm… Fade nug.” He very pointedly ignored her comment, though perhaps his mouth twitched just a little. She handed them off, and watched him prep them, pulling a spice kit from his pack. 

She watched in fascination, torn between needing to help and wanting to see just how good of a cook he was. Split the difference then.

“If you want any help, I’m pretty proficient myself.” She offered. Whoops. Accidentally made that more of a challenge than she meant to, and he waved her off. Ok. She took the opportunity to strip some of the armor off in the tent she’d be sharing with Cassandra, careful to take up as little space as possible.

The roast nug turned out surprisingly good. The meat was smokey and moist from the fire, gaminess set off by some well chosen herbs. They broke apart a loaf of bread and ate with their hands, laughing and joking as the meat burned them in intervals. Harding rejoined them mid meal, after scouting ahead a bit and setting a watch rotation for the evening.

After eating, Thenera and Cassandra made their way to the stream to wash. Thenera had very specifically packed a washcloth, as dousing herself in freezing river water didn’t sound like a good time. After washing her hands, she dipped her cloth in the water, warming it slightly before wiping the sweat from her body, rinsing it a few times in the process. Cassandra followed suit, and they returned to camp to allow the men the chance to wash up.

Varric was still in the mood to spin stories, saying it was his contribution to setting camp. Thenera listened for as long as she could before her eyes drooped. Full of good food and laughter, she settled into her bedroll next to Cassandra and drifted off.

\-----------

She awoke knowing she’d had lovely dreams of friends, and nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the idea that Solas is a picky eater, and a good cook because of it. There's actually a note you find in Skyhold at some point that talks about how peculiar his tastes are. Also, I fiddled a bit with the distances things are from each other, because I decided not to turn this into LoTR.


	7. Varric No

The Hinterlands was a shitshow. I mean. It wasn’t surprising. But really. They collected supplies on the way into the crossroads, Elfroot, Ram’s meat, and blankets. She also noted any caches of supplies they came across, though most of those would be found to the south, where they hadn’t traversed yet. Solas gave her a thoughtful look as each item collected turned out to be exactly what the townsfolk requested when they arrived, and she just gave him a small smile in answer.

It was also the first time she had killed a person. 

It was… Odd. She had expected it to be emotional, but instead, a stillness crept into her mind, grim and certain. There had been no choice, and she didn’t regret it. Maybe it would process later, but there was no time, and much to be done.

The meeting with Mother Giselle went as expected. It was good seeing her helping. They spoke to some of the townspeople, and made a plan for the next day. They would camp outside of the crossroads; their resources were stretched thin enough as it was. 

She suggested heading up the mountain to the southwest, saying they would be more likely to get out of the worst of the fighting. Cassandra agreed, and they headed up along the path, finding the perfect spot next to a beautifully clear slow moving stream. 

“Damn, you could almost forget the horror going on down there.” Varric said. The faint sounds of shouting and metal on metal drifted up, softer than they had any right to sound. “Dunno about you, but I’m feeling itchy. Let me do the hunting tonight, huh Glowy?” Thenera smiled at the nickname and nodded to him. 

“You know how to clean them right? There are bears in this area, and we have enough problems on our hands.” Thenera asked. Definitely didn’t wanna fight bears. He sighed.

“No not really. Remember? City dwarf?” She smiled in appeasement and rose to join him. 

“Let me teach you. I’ll let you kill stuff, I’ve had my fill for the day.” 

She managed to find some leafy veggies to add to the haul while Varric blew off steam. So she wasn’t paying close enough attention.

“Here we go Glowy! Dinner is served!” She looked up with a smile. Varric was never down for long. And then her face fell.

“Um. Varric. That’s a ram.” He looked so proud of himself, but his look fell when he caught her expression. 

“Umm… Yes?” He responded, not quite catching what she meant.

“Umm, yea. How are we getting that back to camp with just the two of us?” 

“Oh. Right. Uhh.” Poor guy looked so crestfallen. She let out a breath and made a plan.

“It’s ok. We’ll just have to strip it and clean it here, and let the wolves and bears have the rest. Just wish there was some water source nearby to clean up. You’re getting the crash course! Sorry.” Varric grunted his acknowledgement.

She showed him how to skin it. Once they had, she laid out the skin, and showed him how to strip the meat, placing the slabs on the skin to bundle and carry back to camp.

“Normally we’d gut it too, but we don’t have to working like this, and neither one of us wants to be elbow deep in ram and this far from water.” Thenera instructed. Varric looked at his bloody hands, with a look that screamed that it couldn’t get much worse. She gave him a wry smile.

“Yea. I’m good with not doing that.” He said, pushing a stray piece of hair from his face with his forearms, careful to avoid the bloody parts.

“Glad we’re on the same page. Help me carry this?” He nodded glumly, and they trudged back to camp with the meat wrapped in the skin. It was extra awkward due to the height difference, and by the time they returned, they were both exhausted and miserable.

Luckily there was fresh, cool water right there, and things seemed a little less bleak with clean hands. 

“Whose idea was this?” Cassandra asked, brows raised. Varric and Thenera looked at eachother, and Thenera shrugged at him with a lopsided smile.

“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” Varric said, offering Cass a shrug of his own.

“Shouldn’t you have seen this coming?” Solas asked, double meaning obvious to her.

“I wasn’t paying attention. Was planning to grab us some veggies, but I tragically had to abandon them.” She sighed dramatically, putting her hand to her forehead.

“However will we live?” Solas replied dryly. 

She snickered and set to cooking, cutting the meat into chunks and skewering them.

“Not asking for someone else to cook tonight?” Solas asked, watching in what must be the way she had watched last night.

“Well, as delicious as fade nug was, I figured it was my turn to show off.” She smirked at him. “Besides, how often do you cook ram?”

“Ah. Indeed.” He responded. 

She washed up again and pulled her spice pack, sprinkling a hearty amount of ginger, garlic, and rosemary on them, along with salt. She handed each member a skewer, and laughed while instructing Varric and Cassandra how often to turn them, and how close to the fire to hold them. 

They broke out another loaf of bread, extra crispy from the days on the road, and some hard cheese. Thenera did a happy wiggle when she tasted a bite. It was rich and the ginger and garlic gave it a tangy bite that complimented the meat wonderfully. Suitable for showing off.

“This is delightful, thank you, Lavellan.” Cassandra said between bites. 

“Can’t compliment, eating!” Varric agreed.

“This is quite delightful.” Solas agreed. “Though it’s no ‘fade nug.’” 

Even Cassandra laughed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I would probably be a good assassin. While I was writing this, I asked my husband how I would react if I killed someone, just to check in with how I viewed it. He told me if it was someone I knew, I'd be really upset. I asked him how I would handle it in a them or me situation, if it was a stranger, and his response was pretty much "Oh, yea, you wouldn't give a shit. My wife is scary."
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	8. Yoga in the Hinterlands

The next day broke crisp and beautiful. Thenera wasn’t exactly a morning person in the other world, but it seemed easier here. The tent was warm from the sun, with streams of cold mountain air making their way through the seams. She got up as Cassandra began replacing her armor. Thenera stretched, or tried to, but there wasn’t much room. 

Stretching definitely seemed like a good idea before the day. She planned to go take care of the cult and maybe the Templar camp before they made their way west. The plea for medicine may be able to wait in the game, but she doubted it would now.

She went out to the fire in her bedclothes and stretched properly. It felt amazing after being confined to a narrow bedroll, and she closed her eyes to savor the feeling. More stretching necessary.

She found a clear spot and began some slow mindful stretches. This body was decently flexible, without being hypermobile. She grinned as her fingers brushed the pebbles and she began some steady sun salutations. She noticed the familiar whispering nearby. Fun. Tranquil skulls. That could wait until later.

“Is that some sort of Dalish ritual?” Cassandra asked, curious.

“It’s for flexibility and control. Would you like to join me?” Thenera asked on an upward dog.

“Perhaps another time. I fear my armor would be a detriment.” 

“True enough.” She replied as she moved slowly into upward dog.

By the time she finished, Varric had joined Cassandra by the fire. 

She tore a piece of bread from the loaf and took it to the tent as she donned her armor. By the time she returned, Solas was still nowhere in sight.

“Still sleeping?” She asked Varric, jerking her head in the direction of their tent.

“Chuckles does love his beauty sleep.” He answered. Oh, of course he would sleep extra. More time in The Fade. 

“Wanna wake him?” She asked. 

“Nope. You’ve seen what he can do. I do not want to be on the other end of that.” Varric responded solemnly. Thenera sighed, but they had to get moving. Hopefully this wasn’t too awkward.

She grabbed another hunk of bread and ducked into the tent. He lay, perfectly still, with his hands crossed over his heart like he had been posed. It was a little unnerving, but his face was relaxed and smooth. In fact, he looked happier in sleep than he did awake. The strangest urge to protect him welled inside her, considering how many times he had already saved her life, and how many more were yet to come.

“Solas?” She asked. He didn’t stir. “It’s time to wake up. I’m sorry to disturb your journey, but we need to get moving.” His face twitched in momentary displeasure and went still again. Thenera sighed, and sat down next to him. 

“Solas?” Nothing. She thought what she could do without being creepy or getting zapped, because neither of those options appealed to her. She glanced at her marked hand. His magic. She reached out with the anchor to touch his shoulder, the least creepy place she could think of. 

His eyes opened with a jolt.

“I’m sorry to disturb your journey, falon.” She offered in appeasement. He looked about, sleep bleary for a moment before his eyes focused and he sat up. She smiled. It was kinda adorable.

“I suppose… It is time to be on our way?” He asked, voice rough from sleep.

“Yep. Gonna find a cult today.” She waggled her brows at him.

“What? How can you know?” He asked.

“My dreams, obviously. Plus the elf who asked asked us to get the medicine told us about it.” She answered. He half glared at her and struggled to get up. “Oh. Solas. I have no intention of telling anyone else about my dreams. Varric would be insufferable and I don’t need Cassandra thinking I’m any more blessed, or she might light me on fire.”

“I… Understand. I will keep your secret for now.” 

“Thanks! Also, there’s a magic skull here you’re gonna want to take a look at.” She handed him the bread and left the tent to allow him to get ready. 

He joined soon, and they meandered over to the Oculara, Varric remarking on it’s creepiness, and Solas intrigued. She asked Scout Harding to check it out, after all, there was only so much the ‘Herald of Andraste’ could reasonably be expected to do herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love screwing with Solas so much.


	9. Culty shite

They found the cult around midday, after skirting as much fighting as possible, sealing a couple rifts, and marking another Oculara on the map. Thenera winked at Solas as they approached the closed gate. He responded with an annoyed glare, which amused her greatly. She felt his ire deepen as Anais began talking. After promising that she could seal the rifts, they were allowed inside, and the anchor tugged. 

“Rift this way.” Thenera offered, leading them to the far side of the encampment. “Let’s form a wall between it and the people here.” She got nods, and they lined up along the steps leading down. Varric, Thenera, and Solas were close enough together for one barrier spell to cover them all, so in their familiar pattern, Solas took turns casting it on them and Cassandra. She dove into the fray and kept them occupied, and between disrupting the rift, Thenera picked off the ones that veered from Cassandra. If they got too close, Varric would join her, and Solas would use his offensive magic wherever it was needed most. 

It was a good system, and it wasn’t too long until this rift too closed with a rushing feeling. 

And then the weird cult shit. 

“Let’s find what’s his face and get out of here please?” Thenera asked quietly, listening to the chatter. It would be easier when it was ‘Inquisitor’ instead of ‘Herald’ to a god she didn’t believe in. She kept a demure look plastered to her face.

“I do not think it matters here, but remember what we spoke of. About posturing?” Solas reminded. 

“Find me a griffon and I’ll get right on it.” She threw back. “And get out of here. Besides, do I look anything other than the picture of solemnity?” She had been very careful to keep her bearing proud, and cast her voice carefully.

No one argued her point.

She wound up the stairwell he had frequented in her memories, and she got lucky. Names? Awful. Places and navigation? Excellent. 

They got the recipe and a few bottles of the mixture from him, and made for the exit. She already wasn’t looking forward to coming back for the elven artifact. She spotted Anais, and put on her very best regal posture. 

“Maker’s tears! I was a fool to have doubted you.” She greeted. “How may we serve you? Herald of Andraste.”

“By helping the refugees. They are starving and freezing while you’ve locked yourselves away. Help them.” She stated. 

“As you say, Herald of Andraste. Some few will remain here, the rest will go forth to do your will. When the Maker calls you to your great purpose, remember that we served you.” She bowed, and Thenera nodded solemnly. She turned and they left. 

She took a deep breath once the gates were behind them, and suggested making a stop for lunch at the campsite nearby. The Templar camp definitely wouldn’t be happening today, but perhaps they could clear the southernmost rift and the red lyrium cave, while marking the apostate caches. That would make for a very productive day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS I JUST WROTE MY FIRST SMUT SCENE AND I CAN'T WAIT TO SHARE IT. 
> 
> But you'll have to wait!
> 
> Also, short chapter is short so uploading the next now! They get... a lot longer as I go. Whoops.


	10. Of Tranquil Skulls

She had forgotten how difficult that rift was. It had been a little close for comfort, and by the time they made it to camp that evening, no one had energy to do much except grumble. Luckily, Harding had saved the extra ram meat from the night before, and they grilled flanks of it over the fire, Solas and Thenera fighting over which spices to use. Harding, beginning to open up after a couple nights camping together, told scouting stories to the exhausted crew. 

“Oh! I wanted to talk to you about the Oculara!” She said, pulling out her copy of the map.

“It is a strange magic. In all my journeys in the Fade, I have seen nothing like it.” Solas offered. “I am eager to study both them and the objects they reveal.” Thenera caught his gaze and held it for a moment. An offer. His lips tightened, just a smidge, in acknowledgement. She hoped Varric hadn’t caught it. Maybe she could blame it on elfyness. Or he’d just assume they were flirting, which would definitely work. He wouldn't be… Entirely wrong. 

“I suspect we’ll find more of them in our travels. Will you be able to find and collect them if I can mark the Oculara on the map?” Thenera asked. Harding nodded. 

“It’ll be a great exercise for my people.” She answered with a smile “Though I am curious why these are here. They don’t seem very old, but we found one of the shards today, and it seems ancient.” Solas’ eyes gleamed in anticipation of an unknown magic to study. In his subtle way, he was practically jumping up and down in excitement.

“I dunno. But I bet it’s better we find them than whoever else is looking.” Thenera answered. There was a lot of power locked into the Solasan, and it would be better if the Inquisition got the keys first.

Slowly, people filtered off to sleep. Harding set some scouts out to watch, as usual, and Solas set wards. Soon it was just the two of them by the fire, and she saw him cast a spell she didn’t recognize.

“I have cast a soundproof barrier. Do you have additional information about the Oculara?” He asked without preamble. Thenera nodded.

“We will find a house full of them in Redcliffe.” She answered. “They are made from the skulls of Tranquil who fled the mage rebellion.” Her jaw muscle worked. It was going to be so much worse in person. 

“The skulls of Tranquil? I had wondered where they had gone.” Solas mused bitterly.

“It’s barbaric.” She said vehemently. 

“The process of Tranquility? Or these Oculara?” He asked.

“Yes.” She answered. “Both. And the shards? They unlock an ancient temple.” His brows furrowed.

“Exactly how much do you see in your dreams?” He asked.

“Are you saying you believe me now?” She returned, deflecting.

“I am not sure.” He admitted. “It begins to seem wiser to take your word. And I will admit to curiosity.”

She smiled a small, guarded smile. This was the first step to changing what she wanted to change. 

“Tomorrow will find the Templar camp. It's south of the broken bridge next to the river.” She offered. “And we should get some sleep. It won't be an easy fight.” 

He nodded, and they rose to head to bed. 

“Dareth shiral.”

“Dareth shiral, falon. Enjoy the Fade.” She replied wistfully before slipping into her tent.

~~~~~~~~~~

She awoke in a huge bed, covered in cats, and aching everywhere. The threads of dream slipped away, wistful and complicated. It was odd she hadn't been able to remember her dreams recently, that never happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvhen-
> 
> Falon- friend.
> 
> Dareth shiral- Safe Journeys


	11. Shem Cider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW! Because Thenera is thirsty and needs some release. More suggested than explicit.

By the time they returned to Haven, Thenera was desperately looking forward to a few days rest. And at least 15 baths. And a new wardrobe. There were only so many bloodstains you could scrub out in river rocks and freezing water. 

They had returned items, battled wolves, plotted watchtowers, found the first elven artifact, and of course, cleared out the Templar stronghold. She had watched Solas carefully while hunting the artifact, hoping to glean any clues about their purpose, but of course, he gave nothing away without careful consideration. Though she had wanted to slap the Dalish elf who had been so rude to him. No wonder he didn’t particularly like the Dalish.

“I can’t decide whether I need to sleep or drink more.” Varric said as they dismounted and returned their horses to the stable. 

“I think I need a bath before I can even think about anything else, but it would be really nice to eat some food I didn’t kill.” Thenera said, and both Cassandra and Varric grunted in fervent agreement, Cass for the bath and Varric for the food.

“Tavern after baths?” Varric asked.

“Absolutely.” Thenera answered.

“I approve of your priorities, Herald.” Cassandra agreed. Thenera grinned and glanced at Solas, who had been quiet as usual, and she raised a brow in question.

“I suppose it is not a terrible plan. I shall meet you in a bit.” His lips tilted up in a small smile, and they scattered to their respective cabins to scrub the travel from their bodies.

By the time Thenera reached her cabin, there was a hot bath drawn and waiting. Bless Harding for riding ahead and getting things started. Oh and bless Josephine for the accouterments of oils and soaps! She nearly squealed with delight, adding a few drops of rose oil. She quickly stripped and used a washcloth to remove the worst of the grime before sinking into the steaming water, and let out a moan that wasn’t suitable for polite company.

Her mind wandered as the heat soaked the stress and filth from her body, and it wandered to Solas. Of course it did. They had been speaking nearly every evening. About the Fade, about magical theory, about elven culture. Though she had avoided asking him about the Dalish so far. There was a fine line to walk between fascination and suspicion, and she found every question eased his suspicions. A small smile broke remembering a specific interaction.

“You’re suggesting I’m graceful?”

“No. I am declaring it. It was not up for debate.” His smile was small, challenging, and his gaze was the tiniest bit predatory. A shiver went down her neck in the best possible way and her returning grin must have been positively feral.

“Oh. Well you have quite the indomitable will yourself.” She quirked a brow at him.

“Oh?” He asked with a playful mock surprise.

“I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine the sight would be quite… Fascinating.” She held his gaze and bit her lip. Might as well use his own line against him. If she had to be all quivery in the loins with no way to release the tension, then he could suffer a little with her. He had let out a rich laugh, tips of his ears just a little pink.

“You continue to surprise me, da’len. And I believe we should retire for the evening.” 

He was definitely going to be a problem. The bath was almost too hot now, despite having cooled. Thenera decided some self care tension relief was needed before meeting the others for food. 

She slid her hand into the water, trailing her fingers over her skin on the way down her body. Her eyes fluttered shut as she reached her goal. It had been over two weeks since the conclave, and she found herself more sensitive than usual. The thoughts of Solas’ lips and voice didn’t hurt either. It didn’t take long.

Feeling much refreshed after the… release of the bath and smelling faintly of roses, her very favorite, she meandered through the streets of Haven to the tavern. The whispers still followed her, though not as blatant, or awkward, as that first day. Maybe she was getting used to it. Or maybe it was just because they were more focused on the conflict between the Mages and Templars now. 

Varric and Solas were already sitting by the time she got there. Cassandra would probably be a bit still, if her memories of her and Bull’s interactions held true. They were having a very interesting conversation about dwarves, and she sat without interrupting. 

Soon there was good food, and cider. Cassandra had joined only slightly after Thenera, and their conversation was lively, even Cassandra told a story or two. She noted that Solas was being careful not to talk about spirits around mixed company, nor was he drinking. 

“Solas? Have you ever had shem cider?” She asked during a lull. He wrinkled his nose at the idea.

“I have not found any spirits made by humans to be to my tastes.” She laughed in response and shoved her mug towards him with a challenging look.

“Try it.” He pursed his lips and obliged her, making a sour face when he did.

“Yea, first sip’s rough. Try another, it’ll be better, I promise.”

“Why why Glowy, are you trying to get Chuckles drunk?” Varric asked coyly. 

“I mean I wouldn’t be against such a thing.” She answered and Solas’ expression looked strangled for a split second. “But mostly I think he might actually like it if he gave it a chance.” 

“And why would you think that, Herald?” Cassandra asked. “I have not seen Solas partake in anything besides water.”

“Yea, and that shit is way too sweet, if you ask me. Should get him started on an ale or a nice whiskey.” Varric added.

“Gross Varric. Ale is just alcoholic piss and whiskey is like drinking alcohol strained through some wood.” Thenera wrinkled her nose, and Varric looked scandalized. “I have a feeling that Solas prefers sweet drinks.”

“And whatever would give you that impression, da’len?” Solas asked. “Am I to have no say in this matter?”

“Maybe it’s an elf thing.” She answered. “Or maybe I dreamt it.”

“Do you dream about my tastes in alcoholic beverages often?” 

“You ever get the feeling you’re the third wheel?” Varric asked Cassandra amiably.

“Ugh.” Cassandra said. Varric chuckled, and Thenera let out a laugh.

“Sorry guys. Solas, I’ll take my cup back if you’re done with it.” She reached out a hand, and he took another sip in defiance before passing it back to her.

“Quite bitter still.” He offered with haughty look.

Thenera inclined her head in defeat, and drained the cup with an amused smile. 

“So who wants to go next? I’ll get the next round!” She stood and collected mugs, and when she returned, Varric kindly acquiesced, telling one of his many stories of Hawke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't pass up the opportunity to use Solas' own line against him. It's just so good!


	12. Little One

“Josephine!” Thenera nearly squealed the next morning on her way to the war room. “Thank you!” 

She reached her and clasped the Antivan’s free hand in gratitude, squeezing her slim fingers gently. 

“There are no words to describe how grateful I am for that bath yesterday. And the rose oil was perfection.” 

Josephine smiled.

“Of course Lady Herald. After such time in crude camps, I thought it might be appreciated. I know how much of a blessing such small things can be.” Her smile was warm and sweet. 

They continued to the war room, and spent the next several hours debating Templars versus Mages, planning the upcoming trip to Val Royeaux, rumors of Blackwall, and how best to address the letter from her clan. She decided a small group of elven scouts would be best, and after further toil, called it a day. Her stomach was growling, so she strode purposefully towards the tavern, and almost into a familiar face as she exited the chantry. 

“Excuse me, I’ve got a message for the Inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.” Thenera’s face split into a grin. Shit. She must look crazy. She schooled herself into a neutral mask. Krem!

“What’s the message?” She asked in her super serious boss lady tone.

“We’ve got word of some Tevinter mercenaries gathering out on the Storm Coast. My company commander Iron Bull offers the information free of charge. If you’d like to see what the Bull’s Chargers can do for the Inquisition, meet us there and watch us work.” He said, apparently choosing to ignore her odd reaction.

“I’ll see what we can do.” She said reassuringly.

“I appreciate it. We’re the best you’ll find. Come to the Storm Coast and you can see us in action.” He said it simply, like telling her the weather. The mark of someone who wasn’t just posturing.

“Sounds like a real treat. I’m Thenera.” She said, releasing the smile she had been holding back.

“Cremmissius Aclassi. It’s a pleasure.” He bowed, and she continued on her way to the tavern, nearly skipping. 

She stopped and grabbed Varric, offering to buy, to share her good cheer. He agreed magnanimously, and they ate sharing stories, as usual. 

“So there I was, with this little shem pipsqueak threatening to stab me!” She recounted. “He didn’t even stop to think that he was unarmed and I wasn't. He was so hurt he’d have to follow through on his own word! He didn’t stop to think that I might be dangerous.”

“No shit? What happened? Did you gut him like those nugs in the Hinterlands?”

“Never got the chance! He ran as soon as he realized I wasn’t going to be intimidated like the flat ears have been conditioned to. Kept the blanket too.” 

“You are one scary elf, Glowy.” He shook his head, disbelief and mirth in his eyes. “Mind if I use that?” 

“Go for it.” She smiled and glanced towards Solas’ cabin. For the dozenth time. It had just been yesterday that she’d seen him. It was ridiculous to miss him. Especially when he still found her vaguely annoying at times. Varric noted her looks.

“So… Chuckles huh?” He asked. The flirting hadn’t managed to make her blush, but this did. Damnit, should have been more prepared. She gave him what she hoped was a mysterious smile.

“He’s…. Fascinating.” She deflected.

“I’m fascinating and you aren’t making goo-goo eyes in my direction.” He pointed out.

“True... Solas is… Intense. And complicated. And I have a type. For now, it’s nothing. We’ll see.” She turned to hide her face behind her tankard. 

“Last night it didn’t look like nothing.” He took a swig of his drink to cover his smile.

“Do you know what Da’len means Varric?” She asked him seriously.

“Weirdly, the dwarf doesn’t know any elven. I thought it was a term of endearment.” He shrugged.

“It means ‘little one.’ He has been letting me know how he sees me very clearly. I’m too young for him.” Though there was no need to let Varric know that it was several THOUSAND years too young. No wonder, though it was still a tiny bit annoying.

“You’re younger, yea, but not all that much. I wonder if he was saying it more for his benefit than yours.” Of course Varric saw more than most. Maybe it was Solas admonishing himself for the flirting.

“Yea, maybe. But still. It’s nothing yet.”

“You miss him admit it.”

“Never!” She cried, then cracked under his scrutiny. “Ok, maybe a little. He is the closest thing I have to my clan here. Even though he hates the Dalish.”

“He hates the Dalish? Why? Why can’t all the elves just play nice?” He asked quizzically. 

“I think he’s allergic to Halla.” She answered seriously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So funny story. I did once have a guy threaten to stab me. Though it was a TV, not a blanket.


	13. The Retching Sea

She was so so very glad she didn’t get seasick. The waking sea roiled beneath the ship Josephine had managed to book for their journey. After several days on horseback north to Jader, they had gotten on the merchant ship with some trepidation, to head to Val Royeaux.

“Dwarves were never meant for this! I’m from the stone, and I sink like one!” Varric bemoaned. He had been making comments about dying at sea since he first heard about the plan to travel by boat. Thenera groaned. 

“Just stay away from the edges and you’ll be fine.” She said from the railing. “Or we can lash you to something if you’re really worried.”

“Kinky.” He responded glumly. “I think I’ll pass, wouldn’t want Bianca to get jealous.” He patted his crossbow, and Thenera rolled her eyes in his direction before turning back to the sea. 

Today the waters were much calmer, and she desperately needed the wind on her face after a day and night cooped up in the storm with Cassandra’s terrible retching. She breathed deep and tried to let the salt spray strip the memory away, but it clung. To quote Cassandra; ugh.

Even Solas’ mood seemed sour, as the roiling wasn’t exactly conducive to good sleep, and she seemed to remember something about The Fade being boring at sea. He had packed several books, but between the choppy waves and attempting to heal Cass and avoid the blast radius, his bookmark hadn’t seemed to move. Not that she’d been paying attention.

Cass was finally sleeping it off now that the rolling had abated slightly, which was a blessing. The sailors had assured them all that the seas would get gentler the further west they got, but that still meant they’d have to return. Maybe she would suggest Cassandra fast on the trip back.

She finally got her fill of the cool air and settled down with some sewing. Josephine had been most accommodating with her request for a small sewing kit, a sketchbook, and a few books, as well as a cosmetics kit. She had found a small stash of silk in the Hinterlands, and knew that the Inquisition couldn’t yet afford Orlesian fashion, and also knew that showing up in something distinctly Ferelden to Madame de Fer’s party would not go over well. 

She was a seamstress in her other life, and it was interesting how her memories and skills had blended between the worlds. She remembered handing off Deshanna’s robe to be embroidered by another clan member, making dresses for the first of the clan. She had little time here for this project, but decided to take a gamble at it. Without a machine and on a tight schedule, it would need to have fewer seams, but luckily, this body had fewer curves to account for, which made the whole process much simpler. She had managed to find a couple strings of beads, and realized she could create something exceedingly simple and elegant, reminiscent of Fortuny gowns, and stand distinctly apart from everything Orlesian and Ferelden, since she would have to bridge the gap. She settled where she hoped she could be out of the way and still get a nice breeze, and began stitching the cream material with a precise hand.

“I didn’t know you sewed, Glowy!” Varric called, refusing to venture any farther from the center of the deck. “Can you hem some pants for me?” Thenera grimaced.

“I…. can? But…. I hate doing shit like that.” She replied with a pained expression. Why was that always everyone’s first freaking question?

“Why does that pain you, da’len?” Solas asked, abandoning the pretense of reading in the rocking waves.

“I prefer making things from the ground up. I used to make all the ceremonial garb for my clan. It’s… a little insulting.”

“Sorry, didn’t realize it was a touchy subject.” Varric offered with his hands up.

“It’s ok. It’s just the first thing everyone asks when they find out I can sew. What’s the first question you get asked about your books, Varric?” 

“When the next one is coming out, hands down.” His face lit in realization. “Oh. Yea. One of those things. You get asked so many times the frustration builds up. No one means anything by it, but the pattern gets under your skin.” She nodded to him and kept working. 

“What precisely are you working on, in that case?” Solas asked.

“Something presentable for Orlais. Armor will be fine for meeting with the Chantry, but I feel there might be an occasion for something a little more showy.” 

“That seems… Kinda odd Glowy. No offense. Sure you didn’t just need something pretty?” He joked, trying to lighten the mood and offer a small apology. Solas gave her a thoughtful look, and she gave him the very barest of nods in response.

“Well I definitely needed something pretty.” She smiled at him. “Think there’s a spare broomstick, some twine, and a bit of fresh water around?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously. If you ever meet a seamstress who doesn't do alterations for a living, don't ask. It's THE WORST. Also, if you've never seen a Fortuny gown, they're absolutely gorgeous! They were made with a proprietary pleating method that's still a mystery from 1907, and they were sold twisted up in hat boxes. You couldn't wash them either, each time they were worn, you would have to send them back to the company to be washed and re-pleated. I wish I knew how to add a pic into the notes, but tech is not one of my gifts.


	14. Why Val Royeaux Sucks

They made landfall in Orlais, and tension hung in the air for what was to come. Her teeth gritted without her permission and she put on a strong face. Everyone here wore masks, why not her? She squared her shoulders with her head held high, the blazing Herald of Andraste, with Varric, Cassandra, and Solas behind her. They would stay two nights near the harbor, and then depart for the Storm Coast to meet Krem and Bull.

Their scout came and gave them the update about the templars, and she didn’t quite manage shocked, just annoyed. The whispers of ‘knife-ear’ directed towards both her and Solas had already made her blood boil, but she would turn it to ice instead. She led them to the square, and went through the motions of trying to talk to the sisters, pointedly making no claim at any kind of divinity. She bit down on a scathing retort about the mark being elven and them being wrong about everything. It wouldn’t help. 

And then the templar hit the sister. Thenera froze. If she twitched just one muscle, she was going to claw his throat out, so she froze. The very picture of outward control as a storm raged inside her. She was so glad she’d get the chance to kill Lucius later. 

Cassandra tried to reason with him, but Thenera could barely speak with her jaw clenched so tightly. She let him go with his pompous arrogance without even trying to sway him. 

“Charming fellow, isn’t he?” Varric grumbled.

“Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?” Cassandra asked.

“Might be, but he’s a dick. Mages are looking better and better.” Thenera nearly spat it.

“I wouldn’t write them off so quickly. There must be others in the order who see what he’s become. Either way, we should send a scout to Haven to inform them, as we will not return for at least a week yet.” Thenera nodded mechanically at Cassandra’s words.

“Solas, before we do, could you please help heal the sister?” She asked. He tilted his head toward her curiously, and then nodded.

“I shall not let the hands of that elven apostate touch me!” The sister cried as they approached.

“Do you want to be in pain, or do you want to be healed?” Thenera asked seriously. “I get that we aren’t who you wanted for your savior, but would you deny a helping hand out of bigotry? I expected better from the Chantry, and I am glad you do not consider me your herald if these are the ideals of your chant.” The sister’s eyes widened.

“If she does not wish my help I will not force it.” Solas said mildly. Thenera gazed at him, and then her. The sister looked up with shame and she nodded slowly, and Solas worked his gentle magic on her.

They headed back towards the scout when three things happened nearly simultaneously. An arrow landed with a scrap of red cloth and a note, a servant of Vivienne’s handed them an invitation, and then, Grand Enchanter Fiona stopped them. Good. The actual productive things to come out of this trip. She let out a deep breath, and focused on releasing the tension in her jaw through the conversation. They would choose the mages. Fiona was only… Kinda here. She wouldn’t remember it later, which meant there were time shenanigans somehow. Breathe.

They split up and collected the Red Jenny clues, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t looking forward to some bloodshed tonight. Luckily, Vivienne’s salon was tomorrow, so she wouldn’t have to worry about scrubbing gore off on a deadline tonight. Good. Time to get way too many breeches.


	15. Too Many Breeches

“Name’s Sera. That’s cover, as in, get round it. For the reinforcements.” Sera called. “Don’t worry, someone tipped me their equipment shed. They’ve got no breeches!”

Thenera let out a fierce grin and drew her own bow alongside Sera. The guards came out sans breeches and it was all she could do to keep her laughter from ruining her aim. Cassandra asked why she hadn’t taken their weapons, but Thenera agreed. This was so much better. When it was over she did finally let out a peal of laughter, and everyone except Sera looked at her like she was slightly mad. Well. She probably was.

“Friends really came through with that tip. No breeches!” She giggled. “So. Herald of Andraste. You’re a strange one. I’d like to join.”

Thenera asked enough questions to mollify Cassandra before accepting, and then gratefully invited her to join. She held back the urge to hug her and offered a ride with them back to Haven, which she accepted thankfully. However, she wouldn’t be joining them immediately, citing a couple Red Jenny things to take care of first.

They headed back to the inn they were staying in for the evening, and the culmination of the day’s stress finally broke after the adrenaline left her system. They ate together in the tavern downstairs while her bath was drawn, and she barely managed to slog her way upstairs to soak, adding just a couple drops of rose oil. She sank in, willing her muscles to relax, and worked at massaging her jaw for a few minutes before admitting defeat. It probably wouldn’t be back to normal until they left Val Royeaux.

Tomorrow, she would have some time to herself for the first time since the breach, and Josephine had brilliantly booked them separate rooms at this inn, for the first time. It was smart from a nobility standpoint, as finding the Inquisition was too poor to even afford rooms for their highest operatives could only hurt their cause. But it was still nice, and she thought maybe she would get a small something for Josie in the city tomorrow. She had her own coin finally, and giving her friends small tokens of appreciation would be good. And she knew just what to get Solas. As if on cue she heard a knock.

“Lavellan, may I speak with you?” He asked.

“Sure, but give me a minute.” She got out of the tub and patted herself with a linen cloth, throwing her nightgown on without much thought. She opened the door and let him in.

“You’re sure now is a good time?” Solas asked after taking in her wet hair and nightgown, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“I wouldn’t have invited you in if it bothered me. If it bothers you, we can talk tomorrow instead.” She said, stifling a yawn. He nodded in acknowledgement, and, not one for small talk, dove right in.

“It seems you know more than you’ve let on.” He said quietly. Ah. She’d wondered how long it would be before this conversation. And he picked a time where her defenses were destroyed from a stressful day and exhaustion. Clever.

“What gives you that idea?” She replied, letting the sleepiness lend her voice an innocence she couldn’t fake.

“What happens tomorrow?” He pressed.

“Madame de Fer’s salon. You saw the invitation.” She rubbed her face in her hands.

“Which you made a dress for. And are going to alone.” He continued.

“Yes.” She stated simply.

“And today. You were angry even before the human’s insults reached your ears. You did not even try to sway Lucius, which you would not have done without knowing he was a lost cause. You were not shocked when an arrow landed within five feet of us, and you were not surprised by the appearance of Grand Enchanter Fiona, who was in Redcliffe last we heard. And when we met Sera this evening you looked as though you were being reunited with an old friend.” The words spilled from his lips, quiet but urgent.

“Yes.” She agreed again.

“Exactly how much have you seen in your dreams, da’len?” He asked, quiet and far too controlled. She sighed.

“There are parts I don’t know at all. Traveling here on the ship? I have never dreamed that. But meeting Sera? I have seen it many times.”

“Do you know how this ends?” He asked. She thought for a moment.

“Do you really want to know, Solas?” She asked with a weary smile. _With pain. With no arm and no heart in front of a mirror. And that isn't the end, not really_.

“Yes. Please tell me.” His eyes burned holes when she met them. She let out a shaky breath.

“I don't know for sure. After we close the breach, things get less certain.” She looked at him. It was a truth, but not the whole truth. And it would have to be enough. His face went rigid and blank as he processed.

“We close the breach?” He asked, breathless. She smiled.

“Yes Solas, we do.” She offered him balm for his guilt and he took it. She didn't tell him the rest, and he didn't ask yet. He would, but not yet.

In a moment of weakness, she reached out, too tired to stop her hands from wrapping around him. With a small, sad smile, his wrapped around her too.


	16. The Alienage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some canon divergence ahead! Just filling in things.
> 
> Very slight trigger warning: assault. Only a hint that something COULD happen, I will absolutely never include sexual assault, though I will probably eventually refer to it in past tense. With lots of warnings. But not for a while! Anyways, I promise it's ok and nothing bad happens this chapter.

“Could you please show me how to get to the Elven section of the city?” She asked the innkeep. 

“Oh! My lady, whatever for? I’d not venture that way, full of…” She glanced at Thenera’s ears and vallaslin. “Undesirables.”

“I’d like to do some shopping in the elven market.” She plastered her best bland smile on, jaw muscle tensing. Not that it had ever fully released.

“Ah, yes, wouldn’t the Summer Bazaar be better?” She inquired.

“No. And it’s currently closed, as you well know.” She widened the fake smile.

“Oh, right. In that case… head this way” The innkeep nervously pointed it out on the map. “You should avoid this passageway here, and this street, as well as any alleys.” 

They were on their own this morning, with not much to do until Madame de Fer’s affair that evening. She remembered how the Dalish were nearly mythical among the city elves of Orlais, and the glowing mark made her a potential target far more than it offered protection. She wrapped her hands until she could no longer see green light through the material, and threw on some unassuming clothes, with a scarf as a hood. A bit less conspicuous than a cloak, and she made her way into the bowels of the city.

It was dingy. Separated from the rest of the city by walls, hope and despair clung to everything. The market was the only bright place, other than the Vendahal, which was just off the market area. 

The market itself felt like a pale echo of the market of the Arlathvhen she remembered from her teen years. The colors were there, handmade goods glittering on the tables, but the undercurrent was all wrong. Desperation clung to the faces of the elves that worked here, and her heart twisted. She couldn’t linger long here without doing something stupid. 

She found the items she was looking for. A beautiful Elven pen for Varric, a satchel of rose petals for Cassandra’s bath, a blown glass charm of ship for Josephine, a nug statuette for Leliana... A small figure of Mythal for Cullen, though she’d have to explain that one. Finally, she found a baker and picked up a few frilly cakes, smiling as she paid. Each place, she paid more than the list price. It was the least she could do, and she could see from their confusion they were far more used to being haggled down, and their prices were already low for the work. 

She turned to leave, making her way back to the inn when she heard it. Cruel laughter. She turned and saw nobles harassing a young woman, a flat ear, in an alley. Oh hell no. 

Ok. Deep breath. Gotta think smart. Last time a uprising started in an alienage, the Empress had burned the whole thing to the ground. A Dalish elf sweeping in and killing nobles wouldn’t help. She was also already in a very precarious position, and spurning the nobles would be a poor gambit in The Game. But she couldn’t do nothing. She turned to a nearby elf; a young man, not yet sixteen.

“Can you please watch these for me?” She set down her newly acquired goods before waiting for an answer. “I’d appreciate it.”

The elf nodded, stunned, and she made her way towards the nobles.

“What seems to be the problem here?” She asked commandingly.

The two masked men turned from the young elf. She was shaking against the wall of the alley, knowing too well what might come next. Her clothes were patched, but clean, and her eyes glistened.

“Not at all, knife ear. Just having a bit of fun.” One of them answered, leering towards her.

“I would suggest seeking your fun elsewhere.” She folded her arms in front of her. She should have brought someone. Or worn armor. You know. Common sense stuff. She didn't even have her bow, just the small knife she used for skinning and gutting when she hunted. She tried to memorize their masks. She’d be able to do something about them with Sera’s help. But that didn’t help now. “The Game won’t reward you for such an easy victory.”

“This isn’t for The Game, it’s just for fun.” The other one responded. He turned to Thenera too. She nodded to the young woman in the alley, and she began backing up. The nobles gaze flickered back and forth between the two elven women. And Thenera realized she had one easy trick up her sleeve. 

“Well wouldn’t Dalish prey be far more rewarding?” She changed her tone and purred, baiting them. She saw their mouths under the masks turn up into a smile. She was slight, and she knew her pale skin and light silvery hair lent her an air of fragility. Even her ‘barbaric’ tattoos were in a faint mulberry color, making her look perfectly feminine, and weak to anyone who would discount feminine strength. Good. They began moving towards her, and the young woman took off into the maze of the alienage.

In a downright dirty move, she threw a smokebomb, pulled the small knife from her belt, and twirled around behind the first noble. She grabbed the back of his breeches, pulling them and slicing her hunting blade through the waistband. As he twisted to lurch at her, she dashed away and on to the next in quick succession. He managed to lay a hand on her arm as his breeches too parted under her blade, but she twisted from his grip and danced away. Sneak attack for the win. Even better when the enemy underestimates you.

As the smoke cleared, the two brats were pantsless. She stood out of easy reach, nonchalant. They boggled and dropped the knives they’d been carrying to hold up the ruins of their pants.

“I believe you may need some assistance getting home after our fun. Don’t be too hard on yourselves, it’s quite common for men of your stature to only last a few seconds.” She winked at them, then threw her voice in a stage whisper. “I’d be happy to keep this between us, it does seem quite embarrassing.”

“How dare you! We’ll kill you for this, you filthy knife-ear!” One said. How boring. Less boring with them clutching at their breeches. She smirked.

“Nah. You’re going to keep this to yourselves, and you won’t retaliate in this sector. My people will be keeping an eye on you. And if I hear about any more fun without me, I’ll be inconsolable.” She sighed dramatically. “I’m quite jealous.” 

She waved goodbye to her new ‘friends’, shooing them out of the elven sector. It was definitely time to leave if she was going to attempt styling her hair. 

She collected her things from the young man she had asked to watch them, and left before things could get even more weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe I had way too much fun with the nobles banter in this chapter, though it may have turned out too easily? But... If you ever get in a fair fight, someone screwed up. I know it's canon divergent, whatcha think? 
> 
> Also! I have 5 chapters written and 2 posted of Solas' POV! It's the next work if you want to read that too. I do wish there was a way to set up parallel storytelling on here... Or maybe there is and I just don't know how yet.


	17. Valiant Battle and Procrastination

“HOW??” She roared. “How is anyone supposed to style hair this length??? This is impossible!!” 

Thenera did valiant battle with her fairy fine strands as Cassandra watched, far more amused than she had any right to be.

“This length is IMPOSSIBLE. It’s too short to put up and keeps getting in my face when I fight. WHY WOULD ANYONE CHOOSE THIS LENGTH!”

“Then why did you choose this length, Lavellan?” Cassandra asked, amused. Whoops. A slip. She glared to give herself a moment to think.

“Ugh I cut it before the conclave. I can’t wait until it grows back out.” She covered. Cassandra snickered.

“I do find it amusing that you will confidently stand down demons and templars and apostates, and yet this tries your patience.”

“You wanna trade with me tonight?” Thenera asked tightly.

“I would not trade our positions this evening for much.” Cassandra granted. “Why not wear it as you always do? With that small braid on the side to show the close cropped part?”

“Ugh. I wanted to try something different. I see now that was in vain.” She grumbled. 

“I am sorry I can be of no assistance.” Cassandra said. “As you can see, I do not usually style my hair for special occasions.”

“Well… Thanks for trying. I’m gonna take a few breaths and try again.” 

Cassandra nodded and rose to let herself out.

“Oh, Cassandra. I got a little something for you.” She handed her the canvas bag. “I know you’ll appreciate this as much as I do.”

She opened the bag and smiled with delight. Thenera couldn’t help a small smile in response.

“Well, I now have plans for the evening. Thank you, Herald.” She murmured. 

“Thenera is fine, Seeker.” The frustration was subsiding. Good.

“Very well. Thenera.” She stated, and took her leave.

Thenera brushed out her latest attempt, and decided to do her makeup first instead. She was still running early, but the trials of working with this length of hair were eating that up quickly. She had told no one of her morning adventure, as it would be nice to be able to do things unaccompanied in the future. 

Once she had put on makeup, she realized she hadn’t given out the other gifts yet. She cradled Varric and Solas’ and stepped out of her room. She definitely wasn’t procrastinating. Not even a little.

She found Varric in the tavern playing cards with a bunch of strangers, regaling them with tales, and she smiled. She placed a hand on his shoulder, and set the pouch with the pen in front of him. 

“What’s this?” He asked. “Oh, by the way everyone, the infamous Herald of Andraste!” 

She bowed to a round of cheers, and waited for him to open it. When he did, he turned it over in his broad hands carefully. It was carved from a deep walnut wood with several nibs available. 

“Thought you could use another.” She said quietly.

“Thanks Glowy.” He gave her a warm smile, putting his free hand on top of hers on his shoulder.

“No problem. Have a good game.” She squeezed his shoulder and excused herself.

She meandered up to Solas’ room and knocked, unsure if he’d be there or out wandering the city.

“Yes?” She heard his voice. 

“It’s me. Can I come in?”

He opened the door after a moment, and she spotted a book resting open carefully. Ah. She had interrupted him. 

“What can I do for you, Da’len?” He asked calmly, not moving out of the door.

“I got a little something for you.” She handed him the bakery box, though she had saved one for herself, which she would have as a reward after meeting Vivienne. His brows lifted in surprise, and he opened the box. A small smile lit his face, and she tried not to melt into a stupid puddle. 

“This was unnecessary.” He said, smoothing his face back to neutrality.

“I had the morning off and decided to get everyone small gifts in thanks. It’s the least I can do. Every one of you have saved my life multiple times. Plus, it was a great excuse to get one for myself.” She grinned at him.

“In that case; thank you.” He answered with another small smile. She ran away before she could get more twitterpated, and turned to face her hair again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I really have no idea what to do when friends with shoulder length hair ask for my help with hairstyles. Whoops. Also, posting this while eating cake!


	18. Quite Skilled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wingman Varric is my favorite. It's two birds with one stone; amuses Thenera, and annoys Solas!

“How do I look?” Thenera asked coyly. Her companions had gathered to see her off, and she grinned to think she might just get to see Solas blush again. She looked good and she damn well knew it. Her hair had not cooperated, but she had threaded some small silver beads into her usual small braid, which added a little extra sparkle. She had put on just a little makeup by Orlesian standards, enough to make her eyes sparkle and cheeks stand out, and stain her lips that perfect just bitten color, but not overly powdered. The nobles wouldn’t know what to make of her.

The dress had turned out well. The crinkled and pleated silk hung and clung to her body, with silver beads sparkling and catching light down the side seams, adding weight. A small belt hugged her ribcage, forcing the fabric closer over her waist. It looked almost Elven, and completely different than anything that would be there.

“You made that on the voyage here?” Cassandra asked, stunned.

“Well, I had the luxury of not spending the whole voyage sick.” She responded wryly.

“Damn Glowy! What a vision! Andraste herself would be jealous!” Varric chimed in. “Don’t you think, Chuckles?”

Solas shot him a dark look before turning back to Thenera. Maybe there was a touch of flush, but it might have just been a trick of the light. Or wishful thinking. Probably wishful thinking.

“You look lovely, da’len. It seems you are quite skilled, beyond your proficiency with with bow and arrows.” He offered, neutrality in stark contrast to the night before. There was that pointed ‘da’len’ again.

“You have no idea.” She smirked at him, and waved to everyone before she turned to head out the door, not giving Solas the chance to respond.

She arrived, and as expected, the nobles had no idea how to react to a polished Dalish Herald of Andraste, and foremost member of the new power on the block. She charmed her way through most, making witty remarks and telling outlandish tales of Dalish escapades. She was doing quite well, actually.

And then the noble she had been expecting waltzed his way down the stairs. With an awfully familiar mask. Maybe not the exact same, but certainly the same family as one of the shems from earlier. Fun.

“The Inquisition. What a load of pig shit.” Familiar voice too. Extra fun. She held back an eyeroll at his swagger and settled for a quirked brow, waiting for him to finish his little monologue. “Washed up sisters and crazed Seekers? No one can take them seriously.” He postured. “Everyone knows it’s just an excuse for a bunch of political outcasts to grab power.”

“Oh yea, sealing rifts that spawn demons would be my ideal method to grab power.” She waved her marked hand widely, letting the green light shimmer off her gown. “We’re just trying to restore peace. I’d rather be riding halla right now.”

“Here comes the outsider, restoring peace with an army!” He cried. “And a knife ear no less! We know what your ‘Inquisition’ truly is. If you were a woman of honor, you would step outside and answer these charges.” Funny how bold he was with his breeches back in place.

Perfectly timed, he began to freeze. Vivienne had undoubtedly watched to find the right moment to intercede.

“My dear Marquis, how unkind of you to use such language in my house… To my guest.” Her voice was rich and musical. Thenera looked up and smiled at Lady Vivienne, inclining her head in respect.

She decided, after a brief conversation, that the Marquis would do less harm in the future if he was dead. Excellent. Now she would only have to deal with the other one.

Vivienne beckoned her upstairs and requested joining, after trading compliments on their respective dress for the evening. Thenera accepted readily. Vivienne wasn’t her favorite, but she would much rather have the enchantress on her side. And she was a master of The Game. They returned to the salon, and she spent a few more hours dazzling the minor nobility of Orlais with her wit before leaving.

She returned, and she found Solas had waited up for her. She was too exhausted to keep the smile from her face, but when she met his gaze, it was grim.

“I’m glad you have returned safely.” He said. “Though that was not in question, was it?”

“Not especially. Though our new Inquisition member did kill a shem noble for me.” She shrugged, giving him a lopsided smile. He seemed about to ask, and changed tact instead.

“May we speak privately?” He asked. She nodded, and they returned to her room. He closed the door carefully, and his gaze darkened several degrees, and he cast another of his sound barriers around her room.

“I spent some time in the elven district today after you left.” He said. “Did you know what would happen?”

“No.” She answered honestly. “That was something I have never seen before.”

“It was careless.” He glared. “You went alone. Your interference could have cost your life, or caused unknown damage to the elves of this city.”

“I couldn’t do nothing.” She offered. _Don’t pretend you care about the elves in alienages_ , she thought bitterly. “I didn’t start an outright fight, and I have a plan to deal with the remaining noble.”

“Remaining?” He inquired.

“The other was the one our new enchanter took care of for me this evening.” She gave a small smile. “He was…. A dick.” She said decisively.

“I wish you had not been alone.” He insisted, gaze still dark but beginning to lighten.

“I’m never alone. It was nice. And needed. I can’t apologize for that.” She stated simply.

He took a deep breath and let it out.

“I… Can understand that. It was still careless.”

“But worth it for cake though, yea?” She tried to lighten the mood, and it backfired.

“No. The cake was lovely, but it was not worth a risk on your life. You carry in your hand the key to closing the breach, and with it, the hope of all. Please endeavor to be more careful. The mark cannot be duplicated without immense power.”

“I’m fine Solas. I know you see me as such, but I’m not a child, or just the vessel of the anchor.” Her smile was gone. Frustration welled. Being treated as incompetent was one of her biggest buttons. His mouth snapped closed and his jaw flexed. He nodded crisply to her and let himself out of her room.

She sighed and got ready for bed. This was definitely not how she’d hoped the night would end, and they were going to be on a cramped boat in the morning, adding Sera to the mix. Would be so much fun. At least there wouldn’t be lizards on board.

Suddenly her frilly cake didn’t look like the reward she had intended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... As much fun as it would be for Solas to trip over his tongue... It's just not him. Not yet, at least. Also, this scenario has happened way too many times to me. Spend a bunch of time to make something to look amazing for an event, and get no appreciation for it. Rude af. 
> 
> Lastly, what do you think Solas was doing in the alienage??? (muahahaha)


	19. Nob the Nob

The trip to the Storm Coast was miserable. Sera predictably rubbed Solas the wrong way, and he desperately tried to retreat, but there was nowhere to retreat to, and it was nearly impossible to read with the waves rocking them. It was easy at least for Thenera to give him space, sketching when she could, practicing her portrait skills on the various crew members and occasionally trying her hand at her companions. 

Varric, noticing more than most, followed her suit and left Solas to his foul mood. Cassandra didn’t notice, but she was too busy being green again. Thenera almost felt bad for the cranky elf, but he had done nothing to mend the distance, and she didn’t feel particularly charitable. On the second day, though, she took pity on him. 

“Hey, Solas! Droopy-ears says what?” Sera prodded.

“...Excuse me?” Solas asked, looking around the ship wishing there was somewhere to get away.

“Ugh, you’re no fun!” She glowered.

“Hey Sera! Come talk to me about Jenny things!” Thenera called, and Sera skipped over. Solas shot her a grateful look, and she inclined her head in response.

“What can I do for you, your gracious ladybits?” She asked. Thenera laughed despite herself, mood breaking. She beckoned her away from the others and lowered her tone to something conspiratorial. Sera grinned one of her wicked grins.

“So I may have taken a page from your book and pantsed a couple nobles in the elven district of Val Royeaux.” 

“Lookit you! Knew you were the right sort.” She said with glee.

“I was hoping the friends of Red Jenny could keep an eye on the one that lived, and make sure he doesn’t cause problems in the district again. I can tell you what mask he wears.”

“Yea. I think we can nob the nob.” She said confidently, with a wicked grin. Thenera described the mask, and they talked for a while about logistics.

A few hours later, as the sun was setting, Solas approached her.

“Thank you for earlier.” He stated without preamble.

“No problem. You two are the oil and water of ‘elfyness.’” Thenera offered, lips twisting in a psuedo smile. His nose wrinkled in annoyance.

“I also wanted to offer an apology for the other evening. You spent your free time doing something kind for others, and I reacted poorly. I do wish you had taken an escort, but I understand the need for isolation.”

“Grating on you, huh?” She asked, not quite willing to let it go. His lips tightened in acknowledgement. “Thank you for the apology.” She said, and very nearly added da’len to the end, just to see what his reaction would be. But it would be counterproductive. She offered a half smile, and excused herself. 

Tomorrow, they would make land in the Storm Coast, and they would meet Bull. It would be a good day. For tonight, She would share drinks and stories with Sera and Varric, and leave Solas to his isolation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some sketches of the party so far!
> 
> <https://dirthenera.tumblr.com/post/183084248691/well-you-can-definitely-tell-which-ones-i-did>
> 
> They're obviously wrong to mimic the charcoal, but I had fun! 


	20. Fen'Harel's Feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had waaaaaaay too much fun writing this chapter!

It was not a good day. She had forgotten about the rain. It was miserable. Within five minutes of approaching the camp where Harding waited, her clothes had been drenched and the chill set in.

“The damp cuts right through your armor, doesn’t it?” Casssandra glowered, foul mood not helped by the return voyage.

“I think this may be my least favorite place ever.” Thenera grumbled. Sera, who had been nearly as sick as Cassandra once they reached choppy water, seemed unexpectedly pleased.

“The air is nice here.” She sighed, taking a deep breath of the offensively wet air. “What? It is. Plus the ground is all solid like. That’s good.”

“I expected more merchant ships.” Solas offered, apparently unperturbed by the damp. Jerk. “Recent events must have put a hold on trading.” Actually… He seemed… Dry?

“Solas.” She blurted. “You’re DRY.” Thenera had never been so jealous.

“Yes. Magic may be frowned on by many, but it does have its uses.” He chuckled at her expression.

“Can you share? I would trade my left hand. Especially since we’ll be here for at least a few days. I’m already starting to prune.” Thenera insisted. Being miserable always did bring out her morbid sense of humor.

“Your left hand is where the mark is, Herald.” He stated flatly.

“Yep.”

“We’ve been here all of fifteen minutes.” He continued.

“Yea. And it’s only going to get worse. So… Can you?” She insisted.

“I would also be interested in this, Solas.” Cassandra added. “Though I would not trade a limb.” She shot a glare to Thenera.

“Possibly. Though I cannot do so in addition to barriers and battle magic. However, I may be able to add water repellant features to your armor this evening, as well as Cassandra’s.” Solas mused.

“Please. Because by tomorrow I’ll be ready to lick Fen’Harel’s feet to be dry again.” She schooled her face to seriousness so she could watch his reaction, trying not to show the mirth on her face as he spluttered, shut his mouth, and promptly became very interested in the shoreline. Ok. Maybe today wasn’t a waste. And they had yet to get Bull. Maybe getting some adrenaline going would make the damp a little more bearable.

“Oh, I’m glad to see you two made up.” Varric winked. “I didn’t know you had a foot fetish, Chuckles.” Thenera joined in the laugh. It felt good. She hated being grumpy for too long.

“Oh! Your worship!” Harding called, and Thenera tried not to wince. “I do have something that will help. We requisitioned these for you, though it seems we miscounted the number.”

The adorable dwarf (adwarfable?) pulled out some oiled cowls with hoods. 

“These should help. Our people have been using them to make watches a bit more bearable.”

“Oh Harding. I could kiss you right now.” Thenera breathed. She chuckled in response, blushing.

“Well that would be something to write home about.”

They found Bull and The Chargers on the beach nearby, after donning the oiled hoods. Since they were short by one, and Solas had magical means, he didn’t get one. 

Unsure who was friend and who was foe, they waited the fight out. It didn’t take long. Krem was right. They were good. Not that it had really been in doubt. After the usual questions and answers, Thenera hired them. 

“Krem. Tell the men to finish drinking on the road. The Chargers just got hired!” Bull called genially.

“What about the casks, chief? We just opened them up. With axes.” Krem responded, not surprised but certainly not happy about it.

“Why don’t you guys go ahead and celebrate? We need to spend the rest of the day coordinating anyways, and I’d love to have your help scouting the coastline and taking care of bandits tomorrow.” She offered

“In that case. Drinks on!” He roared, and The Chargers cheered. “Can I get you a glass, Boss?” 

“What is it?” She asked suspiciously

“Golden Scythe 4:90 Black. You spill it, you kill all the grass.” He grinned, scars twisting.

“I think one drink of that would literally kill me.” She stated. “But I bet Varric and Sera would love some. Maybe even Cassandra”

They settled in for the evening. Bull seemed completely unaffected by the damp, and despite her earlier protestations, talked her into a little of the Golden Scythe. It tasted awful, but it did make everything a little more bearable. 

“Herald.” Solas greeted as he sat down. 

“Apostate.” She answered wryly.

“I’d like to offer my services.” He stated mildly. She bit down on a wholly inappropriate response, though her body started responding to it anyways. Traitor.

“Which services are those?” She intoned, trying desperately to not be a perv. It was the closest she could get. He gave her a vaguely annoyed look and gestured over her. She realized there was no longer rain dripping on her. A relieved smile broke over her face.

“I could kiss you.”

“Considering you said that to Harding earlier too, and I’ve yet to see results, I won’t hold my breath.” He quirked a brow. She felt her ears warm noticeably and her lips twisted into a smirk.

“You sure you want to challenge me on that, Solas?” She raised her eyes to meet his and felt her heartbeat pound. He held her gaze for a moment, and it was his turn for his ears to turn pink.

“Perhaps not.” He answered, lowering his gaze. He readied himself to stand, and she put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Thank you.” She said earnestly. His lips twisted up in a small smile. “Would you tell me another story of The Fade?”

“Would you rather not join in the festivities with the others? We could speak of it another time.”

“We could.” She paused to weigh her words. “If I do that, I’ll be forced to drink more of that terrible swill to keep myself from noticing the damp.”

“And listening to me talk would somehow prevent this tragedy?” 

“Listening to you talk…” She let out a breath. “Is riveting. It’ll distract me from the misery.”  
His brows inclined in surprise. 

“Very well. You continue to surprise me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /cackles in Solavellan
> 
> Also I couldn't resist the Parks and Rec reference. Ir abelas banal (I regret nothing.)


	21. Creepy Legs

With her now giant party, they scoured down the coastline. They had made land at a Northeastern port, and would be returning to Haven to the Southwest, so she made the call to split the party. Knowing that she would be needed to personally deal with the bandits, she sent the chargers along the mountain side to search for clues, going over the map with both Bull and Krem. Cassandra would join them, as she knew what to look for. And they would probably have fun flirting. 

They made plans to camp together each night in the in between areas, and now that she had a better idea of the scope of the map and just how long it would take to travel between areas, she marked a few on their copy of the map that Harding had graciously provided. 

The next day would take them just north of the Hessarian camp. It would be a short day, but better that than try to make their way there and challenge the leader.

“Oh fenedhis.” She said as they approached a cave. “Spiders.”

“What?” Sera asked. “How do you know that?” Thenera was grateful for the cowl to cover the moment of scrambling.

“I’ve had some not so pleasant experiences clearing similar caves while hunting for my clan.” She lied. Well. Half lied. She had cleared spiders from caves for the clan. “I’ll bet any one of you we find giant spiders in there.”

“You’re on Glowy. Five silver?” Varric jumped at the chance. Shock.

“You’re on.” Thenera answered.

“Anyone else want in on this? Chuckles, Buttercup?”

“I would not bet against our Herald with the odds she has already faced.” Solas replied smoothly, and she threw him an only slightly wicked smile.

“Buttercup? Why Buttercup?” Sera asked, scrunching her nose.

“You seem the type. Or exactly not the type. I forget how these things work. You in?” Varric asked again.

“Nah. Rather focus on not lettin’ them touch me with their creepy legs.” Sera responded with a shudder. Well. They agreed there. 

And they had no tank. Great. Great freaking planning. 

“Solas? I’m in the same boat as Sera about the legs. Would you mind tossing a barrier my way and I’ll go in first?” 

He nodded and cast. They were close enough for the spell to cover everyone, and she headed towards the entrance. She paused in the shadow of the doorway, waiting for her eyes to adjust, and held her bow nocked but not pulled. She could hear skittering noises in the dark. Gross.

Finally, her eyes caught a hint of movement, and she drew and fired. Something terrible screamed, and the skittering intensified for a moment before it went quiet. She waited for a moment, listening intently, but didn’t hear anything else. She nodded to the group and stepped beyond the doorway. Just the light from outside made its way in, and it didn’t come near reaching the corners of the cavern. 

“Solas?” She asked, barely a whisper. “Would it be possible to get some light?” He looked at her and nodded. Several spots of veilfire illuminated the cavern. 

And the other 5 spiders.

She drew with a curse, shooting as fast as she could to keep them from getting to her. Their exoskeleton made a sickening crunching sound as she shot, almost like crab legs cracking. Bianca’s added torque helped immensely, and Sera was unreasonably skilled for having no training. Two left now.

“Flare out!” She called. She began circling to the left, and Sera to the right. The barrier was gone of course, and though this probably wouldn't kill her, Thenera had no desire for them to be any closer. Thankfully, neither of them chose her as a target, and they managed to finish them off without anyone getting too covered in the goo that now poured out of their exoskeletons.

“At least there’s plenty of water nearby.” Varric offered glumly, a little goo on him. Thenera grumbled and they made their way back outside. Her poor bow was going to be in sorry shape by the time they got back to Haven. 

“Here you go Glowy. I shoulda taken Chuckle’s advice.” He said after washing up in the ocean, handing over the silver owed and nodded towards Solas. She inclined her head in thanks and pocketed it.

“I shall mark this occasion in my journal.” Solas said wryly.


	22. Mercy's Crest

They made wet and drizzly camp that night in the clearing by the astrarium shortly after. It wasn’t one of Harding’s approved spots, but the scouts had everything set up by the time they got there, which she was grateful for. Solas again offered her and Cassandra rain protection, but everything was soaked for the day, so Thenera stripped her armor in her tent and went to the fire to hopefully dry her underclothes, and Cassandra followed suit. 

She smiled to see Bull and the Chargers livening everyone’s mood, despite all their misgivings about enlisting a Qunari spy. They traded info, but it wasn’t much. No sightings of the grey warden seen in this area, though they had found one important thing; the Mercy’s Crest. She was relieved to see it was an actual amulet and not some weird recipe she’d have to follow. She fidgeted with it as people ate, bantered, and wandered off to take care of various things. She barely glanced as Solas sat beside her.

“You seem more pensive than usual.” He stated with a low voice. The kind that wouldn’t carry. “Why?”

“Because with this, we can save the lives of most of the bandits and turn them to Inquisition agents.”

“Why does that cause you discomfort?”

“Because to do it, I’ll have to challenge the leader to one on one combat.” She admitted. “And I’m an archer, not a warrior. I’m not even the stabby kind of rogue that can do close quarters. I’m going to have to be very smart. And possibly very lucky.”

Solas frowned.

“In that case, would it be wiser to utilize our entire force and simply eliminate the bandit camp?”

“I don’t know. It would be safer…. But I’m loathe to kill so many when I know there’s an alternative.” 

“A difficult choice to make. However, it is not only your life at stake should you fail against the leader. You are the only one who can seal the breach, and on your shoulders, rests the hopes of all.” 

“Yea. No pressure.” She breathed. “Can we talk about something else? I’ll decide in the morning.”

“Of course, da’len. What would you speak of?”

“Can you tell me your thoughts on the Dalish?” She asked. The one thing she had put off asking him about. His lips curled in a smirk. 

“I thought you’d be more interested in sharing your opinions, da’len. You are Dalish, are you not?”

“What’s wrong with that? Allergic to Halla?” She grinned and quirked a brow in challenge, and watched his blood begin to boil. It eased her mood. She did love getting a rise out of him.

“They are children acting out stories misheard and misremembered a thousand times.”

“Are we really so bad? I only know what the two clans I’ve been a part of are like, beyond gatherings at the Arlathvhen.” She appeased with the smallest of smiles.

“You have been a part of two clans? That is quite uncommon for a non mage.” He asked, momentarily diverted.

“You expect any less than uncommon from me? I’ll tell you the story sometime, but not tonight.” She promised. It was not a pleasant story, and not one to tell in her current mood.

“Very well. Yes. Clan Lavellan is unique in having enough interest in human affairs to send you to spy upon the Divine’s meeting. As your clans have been separate for so long, they have all changed, adapting to the lands in which they live. Some are no more than bandits, others trade freely with humans, and some have disappeared entirely into the forests.” 

“That sounds about right. Why are you so bitter about the Dalish?” She pressed.

“I have already answered that.” He answered.

“But you know the truth of things?” She asked honestly.

“While they pass on stories, mangling details, I walk The Fade. I have seen things they have not.” His lips tightened with distaste as he spoke. 

“I’m sure my Keeper and our First would love to hear the truth of things. Have you tried talking to the clans?” She offered. It was true. Ashataralyn, her first, would love him. Her other world counterpart certainly did. 

“Yes. Many times over the years. They turn me away in pride, or suspicion.” His bitterness deepened. Wait… Over the years? But he had woken just a year earlier. That meant...

“Did you visit them in person or in The Fade?” 

“In The Fade. I have seen the cruelty they can inflict on outsiders, and did not wish to risk my life for the chance at their enlightenment.” His face was drawn and bitter, and he glowered a little as Thenera smiled. It was a good cover, much like hers earlier.

“So. You visited them in dreams, a humble mage offering knowledge?” Her smile widened. “You do know why they refused right?” He started at her words, and she let out the laugh that had been building. 

“I do not. Why are you laughing?”

“Because that’s how Fen’Harel comes, Solas.” She kept laughing. “He comes in dreams and offers knowledge for a price. And the price is always steeper than it first appears.” The blood drained from his face a little, though the ire remained.

“That… Would certainly explain some things. I had not considered it.” He looked a little stricken.

“If we ever get the chance, I would love to take you to my clan so you can teach them.” She knocked her shoulder against his, just a light touch to emphasize her words. It was getting harder and harder not to find excuses to touch him.

“I… I think I would like that. If we ever get the chance.” He mused, brought back to the present by her touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aaaaalmost named this chapter "How Fen'Harel Comes" but I realized just how disappointing that would be since there's no smut yet.


	23. Blades of Hessarian

The morning dawned dreary and damp, as usual. What was unusual was that everyone was awoken by a roar.

Thenera sat bolt upright with Sera matching her. It took her a split second to realize what was happening and grin. She grabbed Sera’s hand and ran into the camp and the crew formed behind her. 

“Shouldn’t we put on armor, boss?” Bull asked.

“No time! That was a dragon!”

“A dragon?” He roared, anticipation making him grin. “Definitely need armor then!”

“We’re not going to kill it, we’re just scouting! No time! Come on!” She led them to the overlook, hoping that the rush would make the questions stop. Below them, a giant roared, and the dragon responded in time. 

“Ok. That’s badass.” Bull said.

“Wow. We can watch, yea?” Sera breathed.

“Yea.” Thenera breathed in response. She knew it would be incredible. It was so much more seeing it this way. The high dragon was magnificent. Her black hide glistened in the rain, stripes bright and dangerous. The air around them crackled with static as the dragon released lightning. Her massive wings buffeted the giant, and Thenera could nearly feel the air move from the cliff they watched from. 

The giant picked up a boulder, a freaking slab of a thing the size of Bull, and threw it at the dragon, and it screamed. The air reverberated around Thenera, through her, lighting her veins with adrenaline.

The dragon raised its massive talons and tore them into the giant, flesh shredding under the sheer force of those claws, and it stumbled backwards. It wouldn’t be much longer now. She released one more burst of lightning, raising the small hairs on Thenera’s arms, and the giant was finished. Massive wings beat as she lifted herself to the air, crying out her victory as she headed towards a nearby island. When she passed, everyone let out a collective breath, and returned to the camp.

“Have you decided, lethallan?” Solas asked as they walked. She couldn’t help the smile at the term. Kin. Equals. 

“Yes. I’ll let everyone know over breakfast.” She bumped against him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” 

“For checking on me. For not trying to make my decisions for me. For showing me that you don’t think of me as a child to be controlled.”

“You’re quite welcome. Though I can’t imagine anyone seeing you as such. Or being especially capable of controlling you.” He seemed almost startled by his own words. Well. It seemed Varric might have been right. 

“I wish that was the case, falon.” She gave him a wistful smile, and parted to retrieve her armor and prepare for the battle ahead.

She had a plan. Well. Half a plan. As much as you really could plan for single combat.

They approached the camp with the crest held high. Solas, Varric, Cassandra, and Sera were with her, and Bull and the Chargers were nearby. She would challenge him to single combat, and if things began to get dire, Solas would send up a magical flare before delving into the fray. She had warned everyone of the dogs. But if they could be contained it would make her plan much easier.

“You’ve come with a challenge?” The leader asked after entering. The crew were standing around warily. 

“Yea. You killed our people. It was pretty rude.” She said confidently. He snorted.

“Then let the challenge begin!” A horn sounded, much too quickly, and he pulled his sword and dove at her. She danced out of his reach and she heard rather than saw the bark of the dogs and her companions. She flitted away from him, forcing him to overextend to reach her, only her small hunting dagger in her hand in case she got an opening. He was too well trained to fall for something so basic, but it kept her safe regardless. 

“We have them!” Cassandra called. With the signal, she threw a smokebomb, and used the moment of confusion to dart away, dropping the dagger and drawing her bow as she did. Just a few moments. She raised it, drawing an arrow from her quiver, and took aim. This would be her only shot. The others knew that if this failed, it was time to send the flare. She took a deep, steadying breath. He emerged from the smoke, heading the direction she had been. She accounted for his movement carefully. Enraged at not finding her, he whipped around behind where he had been, and she now was. She loosed the arrow as he roared towards her.

The moment it was in the air stretched. Sounds became distant as her focus narrowed to the arrow in flight and out of her control. Would it miss? Would he bat it away? 

In an agonizingly long second, it landed, striking him directly through his open mouth. She drew again as he staggered, and put another in his throat. The sounds of the remaining battle snapped back into focus as the leader hit the ground. She wouldn’t look at the war dogs. Couldn’t. She let the others finish that grim task and turned to the crew. 

“Your Worship. The Blades of Hessarian are at your service. If you want eyes on the coast, here we are.” One of the bandits offered her.

“You’re loyal to the Inquisition now?” She asked, knowing the answer but needing to ask it.

“We’re loyal to you. I suppose that’s the same thing, Your Worship.” He said mildly.

“So you don’t mind?” She jerked a thumb to the fallen leader.

“He was a bastard. We bear you no ill will. Besides, I would rather swear my life to the Herald of Andraste.”

“Excellent. Welcome to the Inquisition.”


	24. Fingerprints

They finished up things in the Storm Coast and headed South. They had found the clues of Blackwall, the original Blackwall, but not the man himself. Since he was, ya know, dead. They rode South, around the West shore of Lake Calenhad, which was blissfully dry. She couldn’t wait to get back to Haven and a hot bath. Their entourage was slow moving with so may, but they told stories and sung songs along the way. Now that she was used to riding for long periods, it almost felt like traveling with her clan. It felt like home. They bantered and bickered, and it was hard to feel anything but happy, despite the rifts along the way. 

Always the rifts. Some days, the anchor pulsed at a low thrum for hours at a time, sending green energy pulsing up her veins. When it was bad, it felt like acid slowly eating through the blood in her hand and forearm. The hand and forearm she would eventually lose.

When they made camp for the evening, she found herself restless. She helped hunt for dinner, and as she made her way from camp, realized how long it had been since she’d had time in the wilderness by herself. Since the Conclave. Over a month. 

She returned with her nugs, letting someone else take over from there. She wasn’t in the mood to cook. She smiled politely until she could slip away, and found a rock outcropping overlooking the lake within a few minutes of camp, but secluded. It was beautiful. The water shimmered, and as the sun set, the whole lake turned to golden fire. 

She would lose her hand. She wouldn’t be able to fire a bow anymore. She wouldn’t be able to write, to draw, to sew. She rubbed her palm, willing the acid feel to subside, and she let herself cry for a few minutes. Someday, there would be time to process everything. But not yet. She dried her tears once they stopped, and resolved to spend some time learning to do all the most important things with her right hand. 

The sun was beginning to set in earnest now, and she began bracing herself to return when she heard footsteps. She turned to see Solas approaching.

“I have been told to retrieve our Herald.” He commented. “Though Varric may have added something colorful about elves in the woods or some nonsense. Are you alright? This is not a familiar pattern for you.”

“I realized how long it’s been since I’ve spent time alone in the wilderness. It was how I spent most of my time with Lavellan, alone in the woods and hunting. I didn’t realize how much I missed it and needed it until today.” She looked out at the lake, and Solas sat beside her.

“Yes. I find myself not quite sure what to do with so many people around at all times.”

“It’s… Odd. I was thinking earlier how happy I was and how much this reminded me of my clan, of family. And then something in me broke, and I was thinking of my hand, pulsing this energy through my veins, and how it will most likely kill me. And I just desperately needed to get away from everyone so at peace.” She rubbed at her palm.

His eyes filled with sorrow. And guilt, though she only saw it because she knew it was there.

“Does it pain you?” He asked, his voice soft, so soft. She nodded.

“Sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes it thrums for hours and it feels caustic. Sometimes there are more important things and it fades into the background.” She answered wearily.

“May I take a look?” His hands stretched out, offering, and she placed her marked hand in his. His fingers traced the anchor, concentration knitting his brows. A strange tingling feeling filled her hand, and she realized it must be some sort of magical energy. His energy. It pulsed… Like it was harmonizing with the anchor, pulling it from sour tones into something sweeter, and then it slowly quieted as a different kind of tingling, thrumming feeling replaced it. She realized her eyes had fluttered shut with the sensation, and she opened them to find Solas looking at her carefully. 

“Thank you.” She said thickly. She cleared her throat and chuckled. “Who knew magic would be so magical?” He chuckled in response.

“I take it that helped?” He asked, with a small, sad smile. She nodded and squeezed his hands in response.

“Oh. How did you find me? Can you sense the anchor?” She queried, and he nodded.

“It is bright with the energy of The Fade. As Fade magic is my specialty, your whereabouts are usually known to me. Though, I have been unsuccessful at finding you in The Fade, which is… Odd.” His eyes narrowed slightly in consternation. Ah. She had nearly asked him about that so many nights. It must have cost him something to admit to it openly.

“I did tell you. I don’t think I go to The Fade when I sleep. I'm not even sure I can.” She said. “How long ago did you first try?”

“I confess, it was as you lay unconscious in the cell of Haven. And again after the Pride demon, and the night after you first told me of your dreams.” He said, attempting to sound contrite. “I thought I might prove it untrue, and sought an explanation. When I could find no trace, with the anchor’s energy as a beacon, and your own so bright besides, I was at a loss.”

“Well. It’s probably a good thing you couldn’t.” She smiled, unsurprised. “When I’m not having future dreams, there are a lot of sex dreams.” She winked and he barked out a startled laugh.

“Then I confess some relief.” He said, ears turning pink.

“Definitely would have been awkward when we’d only known each other a few days.” She smirked. He was so cute when he was flustered. He was sitting so close, she could just reach out and…. No. Not yet. 

“Are you saying it wouldn’t be awkward now?” He asked, torn between disbelief and jest.

“Less awkward at least. Especially now that you’ve been warned.” She waggled her brows at him dramatically. 

“Thenera. There’s… Something else I’ve been meaning to ask you.” His tone caught her attention. It was… Fragile. Unsure. Very unlike him. She nodded her encouragement. “I have now seen you react to two new members of our group, and it has caused me to reevaluate our first meeting.”

“Oh.” Her breath hitched.

“I thought perhaps it was shock. But the look you gave me… What was it exactly?” He looked in her eyes, uncertain and questioning. 

“I… I’m not sure how exactly I can answer that or if I should.” She paused, fretting with her hands. “The anchor was pulling energy through me, and suddenly a dozen bits of dream lined up in your face. It was… Intense.” Her brows knitted together, but she held his gaze.

“What pieces of dreams?” He asked gently. 

“I… Don’t think I should tell anyone their futures. It could still be different this time; though.. Nothing of note has been. Or I could cause something else to happen that changes the whole outcome. I think… I think I can tell you this. Sera and I will fight about elfyness, but we’ll be close friends, and might flirt occasionally. Bull will be like a brother to me. And you?” She struggled for the right words. “There are people who are important. There are people you love and would happily give your life for. And then there are people who leave their fingerprints on your soul.”

He let out a hard breath, his gaze hot. 

“We should return, before Varric can make any more comments about our time in the woods.” His voice was husky. She could feel the heat from his body next to hers, and it was maddening, drawing her like a magnet. She wouldn’t have to move far to press against him, to feel his body and… He rose, and offered her a hand to stand. They returned to camp in silence, and Varric just watched with a measured look.


	25. Avoidance

Well, Solas was definitely avoiding her. Awesome. They had arrived back at Haven, and Thenera was beyond relieved to find they’d be staying a few days before heading back into the Hinterlands.

After her bath, she set out to find her advisors to give them their gifts.

“Ah. Thank you, Lavellan.” Cullen said, clearly confused why he would be getting an elven god figure as a gift.

“This is Mythal. She is the righteous mother who soothed Elgar’nan’s anger with her touch. She is to remember that there's a fine line between justice and vengeance, and to be a balm in difficult times.” She explained with a small smile. “You don't have to believe in her, just let her help.”

“I… Thank you. That was very kind.” A different kind of surprise lingered in his voice now. She smiled and excused herself, walking through Haven to find Leliana next.

“Leliana! I got you this in Val Royeaux. I had a feeling you would like it.” She handed over the nug statuette, and Leliana’s face split into a smile. With an undercurrent of suspicion.

“How lovely! How did you know I am so fond of nugs?” She asked, delighted, masking the suspicion. Shit.

“Oh! Are you? I just thought it was cute and reminded me of you. I got everyone small gifts while we were in the city.” Thenera smiled guilessly, and excused herself. Well. That may have been a little careless. She worked her way to Josephine’s office.

“Ah! Herald! What may I assist you with today?” Josie greeted.

“I was unpacking and remembered that I got small gifts for everyone in Val Royeaux. I hope you like this.” She offered nervously. It was the only gift she wasn't sure would be well received. Josephine examined the ship charm with clear delight.

“Oh my goodness! How kind! Thank you so much Lavellan!” She exclaimed with a bright smile that Thenera returned, and they talked of small matters, and her life with Lavellan, until Thenera’s stomach rumbled.

Of course, Solas had refused all offers of joining them at the tavern, and hadn’t answered when she knocked on the door of his cabin. Thenera resolved herself not to try again. He _would_ be even more frustratingly hot and cold in person. At least Bull and Sera were there to keep things lively.

“So boss, whatcha drinking?” Bull sat, taking a swig from his tankard.

“Cider. I like sweet stuff and this is the best option here, though I usually have tea this early.” Thenera answered, taking a sip. “Maybe I should see if we can get some mead.”

“Glowy doesn’t like anything good.” Varric sniffed.

“Hey! Her elfyness likes me!” Sera said in outrage.

“Case and point.” Varric said. “What is it with the elves of the Inquisition?”

“I’m perfectly normal, I don’t know wh- Ok, can’t even get through the sentence.” Thenera replied with a sheepish laugh.

“Plus our reclusive fade expert, and this one-” Varric jerked his thumb to Sera. “Who doesn’t like elves. And didn’t you say that Chuckles hates the Dalish?”

“I don’t HATE elves.” Sera butted in. “I just think they get all full of their shite.”

“I’m super full of their shite.” Thenera replied solemnly.

“Augh you and Fade boy both. Why don’t you just do it already? All ‘Elven glory’ and whatnot.”

“Or _we_ could.” Thenera ribbed, waggling her brows at Sera, deflecting. “All… Elven glory.”

“Not when you say it like that! ” Sera’s nose crinkled in horror and disgust. “Plus you’re way too elfy.”

“Woe is me.” Thenera raised her hand to her forehead in a fainting gesture. “However will I manage all this tension?”

“Oh come on Boss, I’m sure you could find someone to ease that tension if you’re not set on an elf.” Bull’s mouth twisted into a suggestive grin, looking around the tavern for potential targets.

“Oh it’s not just any elf she’s got her eyes set on.” Varric grinned.

“Augh how did I wind up with so many spies for friends?” She grumbled. “Not fair!”

“You did hire us.” Bull grinned.

“And it’s too late to get rid of me, Glowy.” Varric winked. “So what’s the deal? Still saying it’s nothing?”

“It’s technically nothing, though at this point all the nothing may just make me jump the next person I see.” She glowered towards his cabin.

“Eeewwwww.” Sera added.

Of course right at that moment Cullen walked in. Varric waved him over, and before he could join Thenera added, in a strangled tone “Nope. I take back what I just said. Nope.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yea... I know the Cullen romance is actually super cute and happy and hot. But... I just can't. Nope. Have a weird thing with military guys just being wholly unappealing.


	26. Distractions

The next day found her constantly wanting to go visit Solas. Stupid elf with his stupid voice and his cute ears and those lips… She decided to walk over by the lake and collect herbs to distract herself. She had already spent an hour training with both her bow and a couple daggers, to hopefully make close quarters combat a little less stressful, and found she still couldn’t get her mind to still. She brought her sketchbook and a cloak, planning to sit on the rock overlooking the lake when she got there. 

She didn’t find many herbs, though she picked through the areas off the path too, tromping through and leaving a winding, zigzagging trail through the lightly traversed snow. When she finally did make it to the rock outcropping, she realized why.

Solas was there. 

She froze, wondering if she should just turn and walk away, since he had made his desires pretty clear. She saw him stiffen and realized it was too late, he had already sensed the anchor.

“Did you know I would be here, Thenera?” He asked, turning his head slightly. She walked up just to be close enough she wouldn’t have to raise her voice.

“If I had I wouldn’t be here intruding on your privacy, Solas.” She didn’t know what to call him anymore. Falon didn’t feel right. They were… Not quite friends. Not quite a lot of things. “I can find somewhere else to sketch.”

“Please feel free to stay. I should be heading back soon regardless.” He began shuffling his things back together, and she caught sight of his sketchbook and a few pieces of charcoal laying around.

“Oh.” She breathed. “I’ve never seen your sketches. I didn’t know you ever worked from live studies.”

He eyed her momentarily. “I find it easier to see the truth I wish to depict later if I study the real thing. What have you seen of my work?”

“I’ve seen some of your murals. They’re incredible.” She said. “Or, they will be, I guess.”

She saw him warring between asking more and wanting to flee, to keep any connection from forming. His things were neatly packed and ready if he did decide to leave. How many times would he? How many times before it was too much?

“Solas… Why do you keep running away from me?” She sat across from him, intentionally leaving plenty of space if he did flee but unable to keep the edge of hurt from her voice. He tilted his head as he searched for a response.

“You are… Fascinating and complex. The knowledge you carry both excites and repels me, and it would be too easy to become caught up in the enigma. You deserve better.” 

“Ah.” Her breath caught in her throat. Of course being here like this, with the knowledge she had, would be a draw to him. Maybe that was all that was there in this reality. Nothing to do with her and everything to do with her power. She looked at the anchor. “Then I’ll stop distracting you with it, I suppose. Probably shouldn’t have to begin with.” She stood to leave. There was only going to be so much willpower before she would cave, and it would be better to be back in her cabin.

“Thenera… You are not only that.” 

“I know. I’m too much and not enough, always, and sometimes both at the same time.” She said with a bitter smile. “Have a nice day, Solas.”


	27. Preparations

Luckily there were preparations to attend to, and meetings with the advisors that took hours, to distract her from her conversation with Solas. They would leave for the Hinterlands in the morning, and the day was spent fixing and replacing equipment, checking stores, and all the tiny little things that needed to be done. Soon, too soon, they would face Alexius, and seal the breach. 

And then Haven would fall. 

She stopped dead in her tracks as she realized. Her gaze flew over the cabins and shops and the walls that weren't strong enough to what was coming. Before she realized it, her feet were carrying her to the training fields where Cullen worked. 

“Cullen, a word please?” She asked, a little breathless.

“Yes of course, Herald.” He stated, nodding them into the semi privacy of his command tent.

“You know Thenera is fine.” He looked uncomfortable at that. 

“Yes of course. What can I do for you?” 

“You mentioned before that Haven was never meant to hold a force like this, and something just struck me. Whether we choose the mages or the templars, there's a very serious threat of retaliation.” Thenera said urgently. Cullen’s eyes widened and he swore.

“Maker’s breath! You're right. How could I have missed that?” He asked feverishly. Ah. The withdrawls had started. 

“Can we begin setting up an evacuation plan including setting aside some supplies in case of an emergency?” She urged.

“We have nowhere to evacuate to, though the Chantry could be used as a fall back.” He said, brows furrowed. 

“That's better than nothing. I'd like if we could prepare some supplies in the basement of the Chantry; blankets, rations, elfroot. And perhaps we should talk to the townspeople about preparing a pack of necessities that would be easy to grab and go.” She said, and he nodded. “Thank you Cullen.” 

She gave him a relieved smile, and he gave her an absent one in return as she left the tent. Good.

Now just the task she had dreaded most for the day. She worked her way through the town proper, and up a couple small flights of stairs.

She knocked on his door. After a few moments, he opened it warily. 

“Thenera. How can I assist you?” Solas answered, standing in the doorway. 

“May I come in? It's about the upcoming journey.” She added the last deliberately. There would be no flirting this visit, or emotional bonding. Strictly business. He moved aside and she entered, standing by the desk as he shut the door.

“Do you want to join this upcoming leg? I could bring Vivienne instead if you would prefer to stay in Haven.” She offered. His mouth turned down in distaste at the enchanter’s name. Ah. So they had met. 

“What are you expecting from this trip?” He asked, trying to gauge the best course.

“I'm not sure about timing. There are three things that will be happening in the Hinterlands and soon. We will go to Redcliffe and find strange time magic in the rifts, we will meet and recruit Warden Blackwall, and we'll gain the mages. That last one will be some time apart from the first two, but I don't know how long. I think there will be time to come back to Haven between, but I can't quite remember.” She closed her eyes and scrunched her nose, trying. “Oh, yes. Leliana’s agents are involved. We do have to come back to Haven between.”

“Time magic?” He asked, brows knitting. “Could it be related to your gift?” 

“I suppose it's possible, but I doubt it. Though I don't know enough about magic to tell if it has the same flavor.” She shrugged. She definitely wasn't about to tell him of her other life. 

“I would like to join so I may study it. I believe our grand enchanter might be too rigidly trained to appreciate such a thing; If that is alright with you, lethallan.”

“Of course. I wouldn't offer if I didn't mean to give you a choice. I'll see you in the morning.” She let herself out, and headed to take care of the last few things.


	28. Inquisition Cookbook

They made their way to the camp they had stayed at their first night in the Hinterlands. Cassandra had stayed to help Cullen, and Sera had stayed in the nice city and away from the terrible woods. Bull and Varric were excellent company though, and despite Solas’ withdrawal, it was mostly pleasant. Thenera had decided to spare as much elfroot as possible for the coming storm, packing sparingly, and resolved to collect as much as possible on this excursion.

They found Blackwall just where she expected, on the other side of the lake, and after dispatching the bandits, he joined their group. His words rubbed her the wrong way, and she reminded herself of the person he was trying to be. Someone good. She would encourage him any way she could, even if he had the personality of soggy cardboard. 

“Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer.” She said authoritatively. 

“Good to hear. We both need to know what’s going on, and perhaps I’ve been keeping to myself too long. This warden walks with the Inquisition.” He gave her a small bow to match his serious tone.

“Excellent. I’m Thenera Lavellan, of Clan Lavellan. We’re currently heading North to Redcliffe before we head back to Haven.” 

“Well met. I’d be pleased to accompany you.” He answered.

They headed North, finding some more bandits and making camp for the evening near where she knew the dragon’s nest was. It set her nerves on edge, but Harding had verified it would be safe for the evening. However, there wasn’t much in the way of fresh water nearby, so eating tonight would either be rations or involve a lot more mess than she was willing to subject herself to. 

“So… Call me a princess if you will, but I’m not gutting anything for dinner without being able to wash up after, and we don’t have enough water nearby to do that successfully. Rations?” She asked grimly.

“Fine by me.” Blackwall said. Varric grumbled.

“Afraid of a little blood?” Bull asked with a challenge in his voice. 

“Nah, I don’t mind some blood and guts. I just want to be able to wash it off. I have a thing about my hands being sticky.” She shrugged.

“Just your hands, Boss?” He said with a suggestive grin. It was nice to have another unabashed perv in the group, and she smirked.

“I mean unless I set out to get sticky. But that’s a whole different thing.” She commented, and Bull let out a bark of a laugh.

“Please allow me to assist in that case.” Solas offered, standing. Thenera gave him a small smile.

“Thank you, Solas.” 

He returned in not too long with a brace of nugs, and set to cooking. Thenera watched, and decided it would be smart to take some nature time in the places she could. She excused herself and picked her way out of camp, collecting some elfroot and embrium before settling on the cliff that overlooked the East Road. The ravine with the river was so far down, and the road that overlooked it was just beautiful with the old stone arches being reclaimed by foliage. She took a few deep breaths of mountain air, trying to still her mind to no avail. After a few minutes, she began to sing softly to herself, which did always seem to help. As long as no one listened to her, or had to. After a bit, she headed back. Food was nearly done cooking.

“Glowy, it’s your favorite! Fade nug!” Varric grinned as she re-entered camp. Her returning smile was easier now. “Also I may have smuggled some cider into my pack for you. You better appreciate this” He handed her a bottle and the smile turned into a grin.

“Now who’s trying to get who drunk?” She teased. 

“Hey, no one likes a tightly wound Herald. I'm doing the whole world a favor.” 

“How magnanimous.” She turned to Solas. ”Thank you for dinner. I appreciate it.”

“I too have to eat. Though you are welcome, Lavellan.” 

“Well in that case I take it back.” She teased, then melted as she took a bite. “I lied. Fade nug deserves many thanks.” 

Solas chuckled despite himself, and Blackwall just looked lost. 

“I wasn't aware nugs could be Fade touched.” He sniffed his food carefully. “Is this safe to eat?”

Varric and Thenera howled in laughter, forcing poor Solas to explain over their giggle fit, though a small smile lit his face as well.

“It is not touched by The Fade. It is however something I have learned to cook while journeying to discover new areas of The Fade.” 

“You go there on purpose?” Bull interrupted. ”Aren't you afraid of the demons?”

“Solas is our resident Fade expert.” Thenera explained, giggles finally collapsing to a wide smile. “He doesn't have to fear the demons, I expect they fear him and leave him be. His journeys have given him a veritable wellspring of knowledge, and kept the mark from killing me.” Solas inclined his head slightly in thanks. 

“This whole thing just keeps getting weirder.” Bull’s eye narrowed in consternation, and Thenera shrugged.

“You’re telling me, Tiny. Couldn’t write this shit.” Varric agreed.

“So… This is safe to eat?” Blackwall asked, poking his plate. 

“Sure is Hero. And damn good.” Varric grinned, taking another bite.

“Yep. Sure to be a delicacy of Thedas by the time we’re through.” Thenera added. 

“Perhaps grumpy ram skewers will join them.” Solas said with a wry smile. Thenera grinned.

“Hey Varric, maybe you could write an Inquisition cookbook. ‘Fade Nug and Other Inquisition Favorites.” Thenera wiggled her brows at him.

“Ah yes. The great Varric Tethras. Author of political drama, smut, and cookbooks.” He said wryly, and they all laughed and tucked into their meal.

Afterwards, they settled into their tents for the evening.

“So Glowy, just had to get me alone, didn’t you?” Varric teased, pulling out his notebook in their shared tent.

“You know it. You are quite… Fascinating.” She responded, waggling her brows at him. He chuckled.

“Why are you bunking with me instead of Chuckles?” He asked seriously. “Would have been the perfect excuse… And I brought you cider, not that he would deign to drink it.”

“Solas wouldn’t want that.” She answered. “And I know for sure you won’t try anything.”

“I call bullshit. I see the way his eyes follow you. Even when he’s not looking.”

“Yea. I’m a puzzle. And he can sense this.” She waved her hand around the darkness of the cabin. It was a good thing she already had a nickname or he might start calling her ‘Nightlight.’

Varric grumbled.

“You know I’m a writer, right? And I was a spy. I see a lot of shit.”

“We talked in Haven. He made it very clear that I am an academic curiosity to him.” She said bitterly.

“I think Chuckles might be a liar.” Varric said, and Thenera laughed, a bit more ruefully than intended.

“Solas doesn’t lie, unless absolutely necessary.” Mostly.

“Then he’s lying to himself, Glowy.” Varric said, and turned to his notebook.


	29. Falling Into Blackness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight trigger warning for asphyxiation! Sorry!!!

“Come to the Chantry, you are in danger.” Thenera read Felix’s note. She hoped she hadn’t moved too early as Felix stumbled.

‘Very mysterious.” Varric noted. 

“Well. Guess we should go see if it’s a trap.” Thenera grinned at the group. “It’ll be loads of fun, I’m sure.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a bit odd?” Blackwall asked, and Thenera just winked at him in response.

They recruited the tranquil mage in the tavern and spoke with a few people before heading to the Chantry. She tried to contain her eagerness, but it kept spilling out. She hoped that she could keep things moving too quickly for anyone to note, especially with how wrong the veil was here, though at least Varric was unlikely to notice that. Solas had commented on it of course. She could feel the anchor reacting in a strange new way to the pockets of time, something that felt vaguely like crackling in the power. She and Varric had successfully avoided all the altered time pockets, but Bull and Blackwall hadn’t been so lucky. Solas had gone through them as well, but his was most likely intentional to feel the effects. 

She lead them towards the Chantry, pulse quickening. Dorian! 

“Rift inside! Get ready!” She called, before pulling the door open with her bow in hand.

“Good! You’re finally here!” Dorian said, battling a demon cheerfully. “Now help me close this won’t you?”

“Oh goody, my favorite!” She called, drawing her bow and shooting the demon advancing on the flamboyant mage. 

Bull and Blackwall charged in, and Thenera, Solas, and Varric took up positions around the edges, trying to keep away from the rings of altered time in addition to the puddles of demonic miasma that bubbled and frothed. Luckily, with so many, the fight went quickly. She felt the familiar rushing feeling as the rift pulled shut, shot with crackling lightning. This one was going to hurt for a while, but that wasn’t important just yet. 

“Fascinating! How does that work exactly?” He looked at her curiously. “ You don’t even know do you. You just wiggle your fingers and BOOM, rift closes.”

“You caught me. Finger waggling is what I do best.” She did her very best spirit fingers at him and he chuckled. “So who are you anyways?”

“Oh, getting ahead of myself again I see. Dorian of House Pavus. Most recently, of Minrathous. How do you do?” He said with a disarming smile. 

“Watch yourself, the pretty ones are always the worst.” Bull said warily.

“Rude, Bull. Are you saying I’m not pretty?” Thenera asked, turning to him for a brief moment. Bull just grumbled. “Thenera Lavellan, it’s lovely to make your acquaintance.” 

They spoke of Alexius and the time distortion, and Felix joined them and added his two cents. Spiraling time magic, so much fun! Oh, and first mention of the Venatori. Excellent. Plus the whole time alteration just to get here before she could.

“All this for me? I’m flattered.” She quirked a brow at Dorian.

“Send him a fruit basket. Everyone loves those.” He replied with a flourish. 

They finished up their chat and Dorian and Felix left. She bit down on the urge to throw her arms around Dorian, or stop him from leaving and ask him to join them right then. Bad Thenera. No mucking with established timelines. She would just have to be patient for her soon to be bestie.

They decided to stay at the inn that night, mostly because baths are the best, and real beds don’t suck either. Luckily adventuring had turned out to be pretty lucrative, and Thenera decided to treat everyone. Unfortunately though, there were only three rooms available, so the guys would have to share. They ate while the bath was being drawn, and Thenera skipped upstairs. The anchor was pulsing something fierce, and with the distractions for the day over, it was harder to block it out. And she was way too proud to ask Solas for help. Hopefully the hot water would help. 

She sunk into her usual steaming bath with rose and sighed in relief. The hot water helped a little. She soaked and scrubbed her hair, which was just starting to grow out into a more manageable length, nearly collarbone now. The silvery strands floated like fairy fluff in the water, and she worked the sweat off her body and massaged her hand. Pity elfroot barely touched the pain from the anchor, it would almost be worth depleting their stores. 

She heard the door open and started, immediately going to cover herself. Must be one of the guys opening the wrong door or something, except....

It had been locked.

She recognized the assassin as one of the patrons downstairs, and as he darted towards her, she rushed for the hunting knife that was on the nearby table. As she rose to lunge, her footing slipped in the water, and she crashed back into the tub, water sloshing everywhere as she crashed with a loud thud. Her curse was cut off as something wrapped around her neck, cutting off the sound, and her air supply, sharply.

Her fingers scrabbled on the assassin's cord, trying to get just one or two under it, enough to draw half a breath, a quarter of a breath, anything. Black spots began to dance in her vision and every attempt at purchase just sloshed more water uselessly. But it was getting harder and harder to pay attention. Her body still flailed, nails cutting and feet flying, but the blackness was getting heavier, and the rushing in her ears began to overpower every other sound. There might have been a familiar voice that echoed around the edges of the roaring, but the blackness swallowed her before she could make sense of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MUAHAHAHA CLIFFHANGER


	30. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the only chapter today! Sorry!

The pounding in her head was loud, so loud, and her throat was on fire. Bits of a dream of demons drifted away like wisps. That was strange. She blearily tried to open her eyes, and decided better and shut them. She nearly groaned, but her throat wouldn’t make the sound and trying hurt.

“Thenera, please, rest. I’m working as quickly as I’m able.” Solas’ voice tried to be soothing and calm, but she could hear the strain. She tried to open her mouth, and felt the battered bits of her throat moving painfully, and stopped trying. She nodded the barest of degrees, and realized tears were welling and falling. Rude of them. 

His breath hitched, and she felt those long slender hands go to her throat, trembling and touching the bruised flesh as lightly as possible. She still flinched, and she felt him pull back in reflex before settling back and beginning to work his healing magic on her. As he healed her, her tears kept falling steadily. He worked in layers, healing her trachea, then the muscles over it, and finally the skin. She finally opened her eyes, still leaking and blurry. His face swam with concern, and she reached out and touched his jawline. Her hand was wet. 

Just then Bull, Varric, and Blackwall came bounding into the room.

“We heard-” Blackwall called, and then his eyes widened and he turned away. Thenera tried to blink away the confusion, but it wouldn't quite lift. Her eyes had finally stopped watering at least. She looked at Solas, wide eyed and confused, and she saw his cheeks heat. She tilted her head and traced her fingers over the rising blush and his smattering of freckles.

“Uh. What happened?” Varric asked. “There’s water everywhere, Glowy is naked, and there’s a charred body on the floor?”

“Looks like they had a party and didn’t invite us.” Bull said.

“Assassin.” Solas’ eyes moved from hers to look at Varric. “I heard a strange noise from her room as I was reading, and found Thenera unconscious, and a Tevinter agent, possibly one of the Venatori, with a cord around her neck. I took care of him. You arrived as I was healing the worst of her injury, though I fear she has a concussion.”

“Shit.” Varric said, being careful not to look directly at Thenera. Everyone’s voices were so floaty. Were they always so floaty? “So much for a nice quiet night sleeping in a real bed.”

Thenera started giggling.

“Well at least she hasn’t lost her sense of humor.” Blackwall said, still turned away. 

“Someone is gonna need to stay with Boss for the night. We’ll need to get out of here as soon as we can, but she’s going to need to be watched until the concussion wears off.”

“I will. I can also heal her as my mana repletes.” Solas said, and reached into the water to scoop a giggling Thenera out. She wrapped her arms around his neck sloppily, laugh subsiding, and not quite processing that she was naked and exposed in front of so many. He set her down carefully on her bed, and averted his gaze as he found a linen sheet and wrapped her with it. 

“Ths is what I get for thnkin I dserve nice thngs.” She slurred. Her voice was still rough, throat raw, but it wasn’t screaming agony anymore. She giggled again. 

“Riiiiight.” Bull said. “I’ll take first watch outside the door.” 

The others shuffled out, and Solas tried to heal her a bit more, but he didn’t have much before he had to stop again. He rummaged through her pack, and came back.

“Drink.”

“Onl if you say plese.” She giggled again.

“Please Thenera.” He said seriously. She reached for the bottle and his eyes shut hurriedly as the sheet dropped with her movement. She took the bottle carefully, brows furrowing in concentration. Why was it so much harder just to reach a thing? Bad aim. She very carefully moved it to her lips, missing the first time.

“Didja kno you cant see yor mouth whn you drnk somthin?” She managed, and tipped the bottle to her lips. Relief flooded through her, and her head began to clear. 

She realized very suddenly just how naked she was, and wrapped the linen around her again. She looked at Solas, who met her gaze again now that she was covered. His clothes were soaked and streaked with soot, and looked more grim than she’d seen him.

She glanced around the room. Everything was wet, including the remains of the charred assassin, though there wasn’t all that much left of him. Solas must have been furious to use so much mana in such a concentrated burst, there were barely any scorch marks around the body, and not much of a body left.

She looked at him and didn’t know what to say. There were so many things.

“Thank you.” She decided on first. ”I'm sorry. I didn't know that would happen. I…” She trailed off and felt tears well again.

“You're sorry someone tried to kill you?” He asked softly.

“We never stay in taverns in my dreams. I guess this is why.” She got out, quietly, before the thickness in her throat wouldn't let her speak more. He fidgeted, taking a half step forward and pausing. She continued in a rush, “I'm sorry I put you in this position with my carelessness.”

He closed the gap and crushed her against his chest. His tunic was soaked and freezing.

“I feared we had lost you. Please don't apologize, da'len.”

“Yea. Whole world could have been jeopardized because I wanted a hot bath and a bed.” She mumbled, squeezing her eyes shut and willing the tears to stop. Her oxygen deprived muscles began to shake between the strain and the cold, though his body heat had finally started to work its way through the rough fabric.

Solas pulled back, giving her a disapproving look, and she whimpered despite herself. 

“It seems I am the one being selfish. You're freezing. And I know how you hate wet clothing against your skin. Please direct me to where I can find your bedclothes.” 

She gestured weakly to her pack, a spasm wrenching her muscles part way through. He rummaged for a moment. No, that wasn't quite right. He gingerly removed each article from her pack, setting them carefully on the desk before removing the next. It was so full of care, her heart swelled. She was in trouble if watching him rifle through her things was enough for that kind of response. She didn't even know if he actually cared for her, or if it was just the anchor and her dreams. 

He returned to the bed with her nightgown. He must have been paying more attention than she'd thought if he knew it by sight of the fabric, a thin gray blue cotton. He set it on the bed next to her and knelt, taking a corner of the linen sheet and dabbing the remaining droplets of water from her legs and feet slowly, gently, then arms and hands. His fingers lingered on the anchor for just a split second, questioning.

She watched him carefully, trying to focus to suppress the shake. He finally looked up after drying her, and his gaze was so intense she was sure it could have knocked her over in her weakened state. He stood and carefully unfurled her nightgown and directed her hands up, pulling it down carefully over her head. Once her arms were through the sleeves, he guided her hands to his shoulders wordlessly, and helped her stand so the gown could settle properly. The sheet fell away underneath. Another shudder swept through her, and he guided her back to the bed, wrapping her in blankets. 

“I should be able to do more to help soon.” Solas said. His voice was rough and thick. 

“You should put on something dry too, Solas.” Her fingers wanted to reach out and touch him, but they were too busy holding the blanket as close as she could get it around her. He looked startled to realize he was in fact wearing wet clothes. 

“Yes, I suppose I should.” He fretted for a moment, torn on the best course of action. 

“I'll be ok. Besides, if anyone tried anything right now, we'd both be screwed. I'm a shuddering mess and you're out of mana.” She breathed, exhausted. She gave him a weak smile. “Or you could just take them off and join the sheet club.”

“You must be feeling better if you're making inappropriate jokes.” He said, a ghost of a smile hovering on his lips. He noted the body still on the floor and began wrapping the remains in one of the ruined linens.

“Loads.” She replied with a shudder. “Too bad loads better from ‘nearly strangled to death’ still sucks.” 

“Then allow me to return in a moment with dry clothing. I should be able to heal a bit more then. Is the anchor bothering you?” He stood after covering the charred bits of human. 

“Yea. Been hurting all day. The time rifts are rough.”

“Why didn’t you ask for my assistance earlier?”

“Stubbornness and pride.” She responded honestly. “I… It’s hard for me to ask for help. Harder still when it’s clear it’s an obligation.”

His jaw worked for a moment.

“Thenera. Never put your pride over pain for me.” He said quietly, urgency behind each word. 

“I’ll try.” She answered, shivering. Her hand pulsed in response.

He nodded and let himself out of the door, and she collapsed sideways into the bed, letting the shivering have her. She lay there, unable to concentrate on much, and drifted halfway into sleep by the time he returned, in something that looked nearly exactly the same as his previous outfit. 

“Someday I’m gonna make you some clothes that Dorian and Vivienne won’t make fun of.” She mumbled. He looked appropriately chagrined, and chose not to broach the subject.

“I spoke with the others. Varric was kind enough to sort things out with the innkeep, and convince him that everything was fine. I believe there was a bribe involved.”

“Varric is so good. Yay.”

“Bull assured me that he and Blackwall will come take care of the remains during the night.” 

“Oh goody.” She shivered again, hard, and Solas crossed to the bedside swiftly. He raised his hand, hovering over her body as he searched for the most useful place to spend his mana. He instead went back to her pack and withdrew another elfroot potion.

“Drink this.” He opened it and thrust it into her hands. She sat up weakly.

“Aren’t our stores running low? We won’t be able to restock until we get back to Haven. I can handle this. I’m even back to making inappropriate comments. Have two more saved for the right opportunity” She said, deflecting. She could make it through this. It wasn’t so dissimilar to many of her bad days in her other life.

“This takes priority. I won’t be able to fully heal you myself. Please Thenera.” He urged. She drank the potion hesitantly, and the shaking subsided as the potion worked in waves through her. It didn’t touch the crackling pain of the anchor, or the cold that had settled into her limbs, but her throat felt almost back to normal. Her shoulders relaxed, a tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying. 

“Is the anchor still bothering you?” He asked. She swallowed the urge to say she was fine and nodded. He reached for her hand, and she placed it in his. His magic traced along the mark, and his brows furrowed. “I see. It does feel different than usual, tainted somehow.” 

He concentrated and after a moment, managed to pull the dissonance from the tear and calm it. She let out a small moan of relief. And then turned pink. Whoops. She glanced at Solas and he was also pink. He cleared his throat.

“Thank you Solas.” She murmured. He nodded, and she collapsed back into the bed. “We should sleep.”

“You certainly should. I fear this room was not meant to accommodate separate sleeping arrangements, and unfortunately, the floor has been soaked.”

“Do you want to go back to your room with Varric?” She asked, and his head quirked sideways as he shook his head slightly.

“I would be loathe to leave you right now.” He said. She smiled despite herself. She scooted closer to the wall and gestured the side of the bed closer to the door. His brows knitted as he searched for a way to turn her down.

“I will be fine. I can nap a little at the desk if need be.”

“Solas. You’re our only healer, and without you, this mark will kill me. You need to sleep. What did you say earlier about pride?” His lips tightened, but he nodded, carefully laying down next to her without touching, which was quite the feat given the size of the bed. He settled into his odd posed sleep position, and she twisted into her usual odd sleep position, which brought her shin against his hip. He flinched momentarily, but sleep was already coming to claim Thenera to her other life.


	31. Lovebirds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW in this chapter!

“Mmmm…” She awoke to her own voice. Her mind slowly drifted back, and she found herself curled, facing the wall, with someone curled up against her back. Solas. And… It was morning. It was morning, and he was pressed against her back tightly. Hard. She bit down on another moan, but couldn’t quite stop her hips from shifting back against him, just the tiniest amount. A small groan rumbled against her, and he matched her movement. Fuck. Heat flooded her, and she willed her body desperately to stillness. His touch was dizzying, and he burned like a brand against her ass. Not even a little fair. 

She took a deep breath, hoping it would steady her, but it just quickened her pulse and sent more heat flooding her body. Hyper aware, she realized his breath was brushing the edge of her ear, and she shivered into him, getting another small sound in his sleep, and another involuntary movement of his hips. She had to escape before he woke. He would be mortified. Though all she really wanted to do was slide her hands between them and… Stop Thenera. He’s not actually awake and you haven’t even kissed yet. 

She attempted to wriggle out of his grasp, but his grip tightened. She finally managed to at least turn herself around, and as she did, he began to stir, breathing no longer so measured. Still mostly asleep, his free hand drifted to the dip in her waist, then up her back, pulling her closer as he also moved closer, pinning her between his body and the wall. Her breath hitched. Her forehead now rested nearly against his cheek, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. He made a small contented sound, and the image of his headstone in the Fade rose to her mind unbidden. Died alone. His greatest fear, and one he would willingly inflict on himself to keep her from sharing his fate. She gave up fighting against him and let out a small sigh, twining her legs with his, and drifted back to sleep, and strangely, into dreams.

They were awoken by a knock on the door. 

“Hey lovebirds, we should get going soon.” Varric called. Sounded like he hadn’t slept much.

Thenera blearily opened her eyes and looked up at Solas, the motion bringing their faces a fraction of an inch apart, and both of their eyes widened in surprise. Thenera froze. Her nightgown had, as usual, bunched around her hips in sleep. However, her leg was currently thrown over Solas’, and his free hand had apparently moved to rest on her hip, beneath the nightgown. He schooled his expression and turned his head towards the door.

“We will be out shortly. Thank you for waking us.” He called back, voice still rough from sleep. His hand flexed, and he realized very suddenly where it was, and removed it. Thenera lifted her leg to allow him to extricate himself, which he did a little too quickly, turning from her as rapidly as possible. She would have tried to disentangle herself too, but there was no room for her to move with her back inches from the wall.

She yawned, stretching, and very glad the blanket covered what was sure to be the inappropriate position of her nightgown.

“Morning Solas.”

“Good morning, Herald.” He turned back towards her, expression carefully controlled.

“Bullshit. Stop that.” She said, no real heat behind the words. She sat up in the bed. “I know it’s complicated and you’re complicated, but you just snuggled me into the wall after saving me from an assassination attempt. We’re way past ‘Herald.’” His lips tightened. 

“I was unaware I would have the tendency to do that in my sleep. Ir abelas, lethallan.” He began smoothing his clothes. 

“Tel abelas, lethallin.” She replied. Nope, not even a little sorry. Something complicated flashed over his face. 

“I should leave you to get dressed. Ara seranna-ma.” He said, and left. 

She got ready as quickly as she could, noting that the body had disappeared at some point in the night. They must have been sleeping hard. She repacked her bag and left a coin on the table for the mess. Varric’s bribe would go to the owner, but this would go to whoever cleaned the room. 

She headed downstairs, joining the group at a table in the corner where they might have some semblance of privacy. Everyone looked like hell after a night of not much sleep.

“Glad to see you’re doing better Glowy.” Varric greeted. 

“Much. Definitely not what I would have had in mind if someone had told me a month ago I’d be getting choked in a bathtub.” She quirked an eyebrow to match the smirk. Solas stifled an eyeroll, and the others laughed, breaking some of the tension. “How’d your nights go?”

“Not too bad, Boss. No further incidents.”

“I took care of the innkeeper. Won’t have any issues, but it’s best we don’t linger.”

“And I took care of the mess upstairs. It’s a good thing I wasn’t another assassin, you lot didn’t even budge.” Blackwall said. 

“We figured a human going out to the docks with a strange package in the middle of the night would be the least conspicuous.” Varric supplied. “Then took turns on guard duty. It was a long night.”

“Thank you. Thank you for everything.” Thenera said seriously. “I’m so sorry for not considering this could happen, especially here.”

“Oh come on Glowy. Do you really want to start the circle of each one of us blaming ourselves for not seeing it coming?” Varric asked wryly.

“Yea. That crap doesn’t help anyone.” Bull added. Blackwall’s brows furrowed, caught between guilt and agreement. Thenera raised her hands in appeasement.

“Alright, alright. Fair. At least you all got to see me naked in payment?” She offered, teasing. Bull laughed. 

“If someone told me I’d be seeing the Herald of Andraste naked in the bathtub a month ago, this is not what I’d have had in mind.” Bull grinned.

“Couldn’t write this shit.” Varric said, shaking his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ara seranna-ma: please excuse me  
> Ir Abelas: I'm sorry  
> Tel'abelas: I'm not sorry  
> Lethallin/lethallan: masc/fem terms for kin on equal standing


	32. Plans

They made it back to Haven without any further incidents. She skipped her usual return bath and dove straight into the meetings with the advisors.

“Herald.” Cullen greeted. “We have begun amassing supplies. I expect it will take another week or two before things are to a satisfactory level.” 

“Thank you Cullen. I appreciate it.” She gave him a warm smile, but anxiety riddled her mind. Another week or two. Did they have that? Did they have two weeks before Haven was destroyed? 

Her heart pounding, she tried to focus as they discussed the plan for Redcliffe. She would go with Leliana’s plan of course. It worked. It would just take watching her friends die. She grimaced. Cullen of course still spoke in favor of the templars, but Thenera had made that decision long ago. Now she would just have to live with it. And through it. Ugh.

“The letter from Alexius asked for the Herald of Andraste by name. It’s an obvious trap.”

“Aww. So nice to see he cares.”

“He is so complimentary I’m sure he wants to kill you.” Leliana added. They argued for a few minutes about the fortress, and how impenetrable it was.

“I’m sure there’s another way in. Leliana?”

“Hmm. There is a secret passage into the castle, an escape route for the family” She mused. “It’s too narrow for our troops, but we could send agents through.”

“Too risky. Those agents will be discovered well before they reach the magister.” Cullen responded hotly.

“That’s why we need a distraction. Perhaps the envoy Alexius wants so badly?” Leliana suggested.

“Focus their attention on Lavellan while we take out the Tevinters. It’s risky, but it could work.” Cullen said, beginning to warm up to the idea. As if on cue, the door swung open.

“Fortunately, you’ll have help.” Dorian entered with a swagger. 

“This man says he has information about the magister and his methods, Commander.” A scout offered, before closing the door on them once more.

“Your spies will never get past Alexius’ magic without my help. So if you’re going after him, I’m coming along.” Dorian offered seriously. Cullen turned to Thenera.

“The plan puts you in the most danger. We can’t, in good conscience, order you to do this.” He said. “We can still go after the Templars if you’d rather not play the bait. It’s up to you.”

“Don’t worry about little old me. I’m in.” 

They discussed the plan, and laid out details. Dorian would make his own way there and meet them. They would plan the envoy for just over two weeks away. Enough time to ready Haven and get all the logistics settled.

In the meantime, they would go rescue the Inquisition soldiers from the tribe of Avvar in the Fallow Mire. Great. More damp. Plus darkspawn and undead. And bog smell. She wrinkled her nose, and set out to tell the others, and prepare to leave the day after next.


	33. The Wolves Trail

“Solas? Are you home? Will you go for a walk with me?” She asked, knocking. After a brief moment, he answered the door, head tilted in question.

“This is an odd request from you. Do you not prefer walking alone?”

“Given recent events, I thought it would be smarter to bring company.” She gave him a lopsided smile. “And you're the only one I can show this to.”

“Ah. Indeed. Allow me to grab my things. Do we need armor?” He asked curiously.

“I hope not.” She answered. He nodded and pulled on his adventuring belt and grabbed his staff. Some would be suspicious of more than that, anyways. “Oh, will you join me for an expedition to the Fallow Mire? It’s sure to be oh so much fun.”

“Sounds riveting.” He answered with a wry twist of his lips. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

She smiled at him, and led him away from his cabin.

“I can't tell you everything about why we're doing this.” She said as they wandered towards the trebuchet. “Can you trust me?”

He gestured with his staff to continue.

“That wasn't an answer, lethallin.” She chided. He gave her a vaguely annoyed look.

“I do not trust many. I have extended you more than most.” He said with a hint of bitterness. She nodded in acceptance.

Thenera wanted to find the place that would shelter her during the destruction of Haven. She led him, following the path laid out in the game and found the rotted wooden grate she'd be falling through as snow buried Haven.

“Down the hatch!” She grinned at Solas, and dropped down inside. It was a bit of a drop, and it jarred her ankles and knees, but not overly worrisome. She moved out of the way for Solas to join. He dropped down only slightly less gracefully.

“Why are we here?” He asked.

“I'm going to find myself here alone soon. I need to find the path that leads out to the North.”

“Can you not take the path above ground?”

“I can't answer that. Sorry.” She told him. “Oh. But there is something else. While we were in Redcliffe, I woke up before you and fell back asleep. I think I might have been in the Fade. And when I was unconscious after the attempt… I think I was then too.”

“How can you tell?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“It felt different.” _It was a dream and not another life_. She shrugged, and pulled out her sketchbook, and began sketching the network of tunnels. Power gaming for the win. She made sure to add odd flourishes to her lines, just to make sure if someone stumbled across it, it wouldn't look like a map.

“There is an herb mixture which assists dreamers, perhaps someday we can experiment with such a thing?” He said, uncommon hope in his voice.

“I would love that, Solas.” She caught his gaze and smiled. His returning smile was bright. Speaking of bright…. “Oh, would you mind helping with some light? Hmm. Going to need to make sure I have some light available.”

He obliged her, holding a ball of soft green tinged light in his hand, palm turned away to keep from blinding them, and it reminded her of the anchor. Maybe she could use the anchor for light? Though… That would mean no gloves, in the freezing cold. So backup would be good.

They continued scouting. Luckily, there weren't too many options, and her map remained simple. No demons, either. They wound their way North.

“Lethallan, what will this be like when you’re here next?” Solas asked, noting the snowdrifts gathered in the edges of the cavern and fishing for more information.

“It will be night, and I’ll be alone, exhausted, freezing, and triumphant.” Thenera answered. She had to give him enough to let her do this alone, which meant not telling him about the destruction part. Redcliffe had been a very good lesson in mucking with established events. Ironic, though, to think that while actively mucking with things to come.

“Must you be alone?” He asked, attempting to sound mild, but an undercurrent of worry laced his words.

“Solas… As much as I would love to have you with me, I don’t know what it will change. I know that I will absolutely live through this. I don’t know if you will if you try to join me, and nothing is worth that to me. Promise me you won’t. When I make my way out, the howls of wolves will guide me to you. I promise. You won’t lose the anchor.” She turned to face him, holding his gaze. He met it carefully, considering.

“Very well. I will await you at the end of the wolves trail.”


	34. Hahren

“DON’T” She yelled to Bull. He stopped just barely in time, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was their second day in the disgusting, smelly, and damp misery of the Fallow Mire, after lighting strange runes and meeting with the clan’s Augur. They were exhausted from the latest rune fight, and Bull had very nearly walked into the area with the rift that would undoubtedly kill them all. He gave her a quizzical look.

“Rift that way. But it’s too strong.” Thenera added.

“Too strong?” He asked “We’ve closed plenty of rifts! We could take some elfroot first if you’re worried Boss.” He offered.

“No. If we go in there we all die.” Her tone didn’t broker any argument. Solas shot her a questioning look. She was sure to hear about it later.

“How do you know that?” Blackwall asked. She waggled her fingers.

“The mark is responding to it too strongly. It already hurts. We need to leave that one alone until it’s stronger.” She said, not quite lying. She had died about a dozen times trying to seal that rift on her first trip through in her dreams. She wouldn’t put anyone in that position now. 

“I believe Lavellan is the authority on this matter. The veil does feel more damaged than usual in this place.” Solas added helpfully. She shot him a grateful look. She’d explain later. They had managed to stay out of the water mostly. Blackwall, who she had brought for the obvious reasons of having lots of undead around, wasn’t exactly graceful. He also didn’t complain about the weather, which was nice. Better than her, for sure. 

She was back in the oiled cowl over her armor, and had also adopted a face scarf. She did not want any undead bits in her mouth. They worked their way South, and again, Thenera was grateful for her bow, letting her keep her distance. When occasionally one did get too close, she practiced the fancy flip and shoot move that Varric had taught her.

They made it to the final Veilfire brazier, and they each popped a potion to rejuvenate their tired muscles. They had been getting steadily stronger, and she expected this one to be the worst yet. She nodded solemnly to Solas, and he lit the beacon. 

“Remember! Focus on the demons!” Thenera called. She hated these things, the lesser terrors. Solas cast a barrier around everyone, and Blackwall and Bull charged towards the nearer of the two, and Thenera and Solas stood on the hill, firing. Undead began to shuffle towards them, and they moved and danced around them, destroying them when necessary, between firing on the terrors. Bull let out a roar, and one of the terrors dropped. She grinned and spun to take stock and found two undead approaching from behind. She put arrows through their necks, trying to sever them. She succeeded on one, but the other was getting a little close. Just as she pulled her bow again, it collapsed in a shower of body parts as Solas’ magic tore through it.

“Thanks!” She called over the din, and turned back to the Lesser Terror demon. She reached into the special compartment of her quiver that she tried not to use too much, and loosed an exploding arrow. It must have stung the thing because the veil lurched around her and it climbed through the hole it had torn in the ground, knocking her to her ass. Solas’ barrier drew around her reassuringly, and she somersaulted out of the way as it swiped at her, and bursts of energy from Solas’ staff tore into it . 

The warriors charged it again, and Thenera came up into a draw ready position. She had definitely leveled up. She loosed another exploding arrow, and the terror screamed and went down. The remaining undead dropped like stones, and she whooped in relief. There were a couple scrapes and bruises, and plenty of general exhaustion, but nothing some elfroot wouldn’t fix. Which was good. They found the recipe the runes uncovered, but the exhaustion truly was sinking in. It wouldn’t be smart to face the Avvar leader like this.

Thenera made the executive decision to head back to the previous night’s camp with the way now clear for tomorrow. It wasn’t a long walk without multiple battles littering it. Solas obliged her with a rain shield once they got to camp, and she stripped her armor in their tent. Heh. Their tent. With three men plus her, she had to share with one of them, and Solas was the most comfortable for her, and probably the best mix for him too. He and Bull weren’t at a comfortable point yet, and though he might get along with Blackwall for now, she wasn’t completely sure Iron Bull wouldn’t take her perviness as flirting. 

Of course, Solas had made very certain to set up their bedrolls on opposite walls of the tent, with their personal effects in the middle, and she humored him. She also really didn’t want to wake up wet, with Solas having snuggled her outside the tent. I mean. She would wake up wet anyways, but not like that. 

They ate rations, as there was nothing worth hunting here. Next time, she would bring a flatbread mix to make over the fire. Bull told the story of meeting Krem, which made the meal of damp jerky and damp and stale bread a little less miserable, but she missed Varric. She’d given each of them the choice to stay, and Sera, Varric, and Cassandra had emphatically chosen the sanctuary and dryness of Haven. Well, she hadn’t offered Vivienne; this was very obviously not her scene.

After their ‘dinner’ and a little idle chatter, her underclothes were reasonably dry, and everyone retired to their tents for the night.

“Tell me about the rift, da’len.” Solas asked, after casting a soundproof barrier on the tent. He had started using da’len for her in private only, and with a wholly different tone. It was odd to feel the shift from a forced distance to something genuinely endearing. 

“It can’t be done right now. I’ve dreamt dying there a dozen times if we try now. Later, we can come back and take care of it. But not now.” She answered.

“You’ve dreamt dying here?” Solas asked, all pretense of disinterest dropped since Redcliffe, though he did continue keeping his distance.

“Yes. If you ever hear that tone from me again, do as I say with no question.” She answered authoritatively. 

“I will keep that in mind, hahren.” He teased in answer. Thenera immediately flushed in response, heart pounding. Oh. Well. She had never realized that was going to be a thing for her.

“Umm. Solas. If your plan wasn’t to make me hot and bothered, you may want to pick a different way to say that in the future.” He quirked his head and took in her flush and dilated pupils, and he flushed in response. He couldn’t quite keep the wicked smile from his face though. 

“Ir abelas, I will endeavor to be more careful with my words.”

“Tel’abelas. You keep saying you’re sorry, but you’re smiling right now. And so am I.” She grinned. The pile of personal effects separated them, but it was only a narrow pile. She could sweep them out of the way and… No. She licked her lips. She bit down on a comment that was sure to make him unwilling to share a tent with her in the future.

“I suppose… Tel’abelas. I am not sorry.” He grinned openly. She gaped at him, and he chuckled, eyeing the pile between them lazily. She swallowed, and a slow grin spread over her face. 

“In that case… Good night, Hahren.” She purred, and blew out the candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... /I/ didn't realize that would be A Thing for me until I wrote this. Ir abelas banal (I regret nothing)


	35. Wounds in Her Skin

“Thank the Maker!”

“The Herald has come to save us!”

“Of course. We weren't just going to leave you here.” Thenera smiled in response, exhausted. It had been a brutal fight, working their way through the endless undead in front of the fortress and then having the tank of a leader face them with a team of archers. She had been forced to use the last of her exploding arrows, as he had trained, or possibly was guided by spirits, to deflect arrows.

She had a few cuts where arrows had glanced off her between barriers, but now was not the time to deal with that.

The captured soldiers gathered their things and they worked their way out, and finding the augur, Sky Watcher.

“Your God looks after you, Herald.” Sky Watcher greeted. “There lies the brat. His father, chief of our holding, would duel me for the loss, if he cared enough.”

“The skies are torn and I hold the key.” Thenera stated. “Come join us.”

“Is this why the Lady of the Skies led me here? To help heal the wounds in her skin?” He mused. “Aye. I'll join you. Let me make peace with my kin, and I'll find you where you set your flag.” Thenera nodded, and he wandered off.

They made it back to camp that evening without too much fuss, though it wasn't set up for so many. They scrambled, managing to fit another bedroll in each tent, though several people would still have to rotate between them. It would be a long night.

“Herald? May I speak with you?” Solas asked loud enough for his voice to carry, clearly mollifying their rather large retinue. She nodded and he led her away from camp, thankfully continuing to shield her from the rain.

“I fear we are to have little privacy tonight.” He continued.

“And yet, no space to keep our bedrolls apart.” She shot him a wicked smile and a raised brow.

“And yet, no space to be wicked.” He returned her smile, delightfully wicked. “However, that was not why I asked to speak. I have a question.”

He paused. That was unusual, he was generally not one for preamble or small talk. She felt a flutter of nerves.

“Yes?”

“Do you know the fate of the artifact? You have demurred each time I’ve broached the subject.” His eyes bore into hers, burning. She froze. She most certainly had been diverting from this topic. She tried to turn her deer in headlights look into something contemplative.

“You know more than you’ve said.” He deduced.

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

“I…. Give me a minute.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She saw his pained expression at finding the broken orb. _What we had was real_. She swallowed.

“Thenera. Please. It is important.”

“I… We will see it soon. The night I end up in that tunnel. There won’t be a chance to retrieve it, and it’s tainted by red lyrium. I’m sorry.” She offered. A piece. His brows knit together in anger and frustration.

“You’re certain there’s no way to retrieve it?” He asked, pain flickering. She shook her head, sad but firm.

“No. If we try to change it, we all die, and the anchor is lost forever.” She looked back into his eyes. “Ir abelas, Solas.”

He looked at her curiously, one more emotion added to the mix currently swirling.

“Is there more?” He asked.

“We’ll get another chance.” She gave him, pleading that would be enough. He stared into her eyes, poring through every minute detail he could glean. She had to divert. Had to keep this one thing until the right time. She had to put him on the defensive.

“Why is it so important to you, Solas?” She asked, and it worked. His gaze pulled back from her, walls going back up, along with a flicker of relief that she had asked instead of knowing.

“It is an artifact of immense power. It would be best if we could recover it intact.” He said calmly, smoothly.

“I would never have expected you to be power hungry, Solas.” She pressed.

“It should be kept from the wrong hands. The events at the Conclave prove that.” He deflected. Thenera nodded. That was enough to keep him from hounding her about it.

“Of course you’re right. Hopefully, we can recover it.” She did hope. It wasn’t a lie, not quite. She reached out, taking his hands in hers, and squeezed them reassuringly. He gazed at her, questioning, and squeezed hers back.

Not for the first time, she felt the chasm of secrets between them. She tried to brush it aside, taking a step closer, and he took a step back to match.

“Someone will see, Da’len.” He said, voice low.

“I don’t care one bit. Stay with me right now. Please?” She asked. She stepped forward again, tentatively, and opened her arms, giving him the chance to pull back again before wrapping them around him. He hesitated, and drew his arms around her in return.

“Will you ever cease to surprise me?” He murmured against her hair.

“Probably not.” She answered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely going to be writing Solas' earlier attempts to discuss the orb in his POV.


	36. Tea Flavored Honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for PTSD! I'm sorry!

She woke alone for the first time in weeks. And for the first time since arriving in Haven on that fateful day, it wasn’t a relief. Though Solas hadn’t snuggled her outside of the tent on the return trip, they had woken up touching in some way every morning, and this morning, the first back in Haven, felt wrong. They had two days here before leaving for Redcliffe. Five days before she would have to watch her friends die for her. Her stomach dropped out from under her at the thought. Maybe she should convince Solas to stay. Watching that would... Pushing the thought aside, she put on simple, warm clothes for the day and set out for the usual meetings.

“Ah! Herald!” Leliana greeted. “I believe we have everything nearly ready for our departure to Redcliffe. Given the warm greeting from last time, we are doing our best to ensure no such efforts can succeed on this trip.”

“Thank you, Leliana.” Thenera responded. “How many should our envoy be?”

“Ah! Yes!” Josephine chimed in. “Unfortunately, Alexius was quite clear you were to be received alone, however, I believe we should be able to convince him to see a small retinue, for your safety, especially considering the attempt last time.”

“Oh goody. At least my near death will benefit us now.” She responded wryly, genuinely pleased but definitely not over the near murder. Cullen’s lips tightened in consternation at her words.

“I do believe, Lavellan, that we should be able to convince Alexius to see you with three companions.” He added. “Unfortunately if we send more he will most likely balk.”

“Three should be sufficient to keep Alexius from worrying about our scouts, but not so many we’ll be turned away.” Leliana mused.

“Alright. I’ll speak with the others, and begin preparations for our fun new adventure.” She got out a forced smile, and excused herself for the day. 

She hadn’t eaten yet, but her stomach was much too jittery to try, and she found her feet, as usual, taking her to Solas’. He opened the door as she approached and ushered her in with a small smile.

“Good morning, Lethallan.” He greeted. He took in the expression on her face and his smile twisted into concern.

“Morning, Lethallin.” She returned, attempting a halfhearted smile. It probably just looked strangled. He closed the door behind her and motioned for her to sit. She plopped to the floor, cross legged, instead of sitting at his desk. He looked at her curiously and sat across from her.

“What is the matter, Thenera? I’m not sure I’ve seen you so distressed.”

“You mean other than the assassination attempt?” She asked humorlessly.

“Is it because we are going back to Redcliffe? I will be with you, and will endeavor to keep you from harm.” He said. “Or is it what’s to come?”

“I… I’m not sure if I should ask you to come on this next leg.” She said, brows furrowing. His gaze fixed on hers, lips tightening slightly.

“If I have any say in the matter, I will be accompanying you.” 

“Even without knowing what’s going to happen?”

“Yes. So long as I live through it.” He offered, and she grimaced internally, and very intentionally ignored his second sentence.

“I want you there. There is no one I would rather have by my side, after what we’ve been through. It would be smart, tactically. But… It’s going to make afterwards harder.”

“I will abide the consequences, Da’len.” He looked in her eyes, trying to be reassuring. She smiled sadly, knowing that she would be the one living with them, not him. However, she wasn’t sure they could survive this without him. She didn’t know if Dorian knew how to cast a barrier, or if it was anywhere near as good as Solas’. It would be a hard fight. In every way. Solas broke her reverie.

“Have you been able to take a bath since?” He asked, clearly noting her unwashed and probably disgusting hair. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“No. I... “ She trailed off, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s so dumb. I love baths. They were one of my all time favorite things. I’m not sure I’ll be able to enjoy the smell of roses either. They’re my favorite flower.”

“Thenera. You are many things. Dumb is not one of them. Will you allow me to assist you?” He asked cautiously. “I would be happy to ward your cabin and sit watch outside.” 

“I think… I think that would help. I would appreciate it.” Her stomach promptly rumbled, reminding her of her poor decision to skip breakfast. 

“Perhaps after a trip to the tavern?” He asked, quirking a brow at her.

“Sounds like a good plan.” Thenera responded, standing up and readying herself to face the public again. “If… If we run into the others, could you please not tell them?” He tilted his head, questioning.

“Out there, I have to be the Herald of Andraste. The Herald of Andraste can’t need help to bathe. They can see me battered, bruised, and naked, but they can never see me weak. What was it you said? Posturing is necessary.” 

He gave her a clipped nod, emotions swirling. She smiled at him, the one she wore in public, and smoothed her face back to something amiable, head held high and posture regal. Solas followed suit. Perhaps, in this way, they were more alike than she had thought.

They walked to the tavern and found Sera, Bull, Blackwall, and Varric all there, boisterous at a table. 

“Lovebirds! Good to see you in one piece after the bog. Heard you guys shared a tent.” Varric grinned at them. “Glowy! We got some mead for you while you were gone!” Thenera responded with a grin.

“How do you guys drink so much? It’s lunch, err… Breakfast for me. I’ll have some with dinner, tea for now. And Solas was the perfect gentleman. Kept our personal effects between us until we had to fit three per tent.” 

“Oh Chuckles. Why am I not surprised?” Varric disparaged. Thenera laughed and headed to the bar to order. 

“Master Tethras, are you quite certain this is your concern?” She heard Solas say from the table, and she turned to see Varric shrug sheepishly. She ordered some stew and tea from Flissa, and added copious amounts of honey to the tea when it arrived. 

“How do you stomach that?” Blackwall asked. “At that point, isn’t it tea flavored honey?”

“Just how I like it.” She quirked a brow at him.

“Might as well drink the mead.” Bull grumbled.

“Elves are weird.” Sera said, scrunching her nose.

“I believe, Sera, that you are the strange one when it comes to the elves of the Inquisition.” Solas goaded.

“Hey now Solas, I’m not sure a single one of us would exactly be considered a normal elf.” She shot him a slightly challenging look, and he inclined his head in defeat. “Oh. We’re going back to Redcliffe day after next. Varric, Bull, would you be willing to accompany? Leliana said we would need to cap the group at three, plus me.”

“Whatever you need, Glowy. As long as it isn’t a terrible bog full of undead.” 

“Killing Vints? Count me in, Boss.” Bull grinned, and they clinked their mugs.

The meal passed pleasantly enough, and afterwards, Thenera walked to ask Josie to have a bath drawn. While she did, Solas walked back to his cabin to retrieve a book. 

They met back at her cabin after enough time had passed for the bath to be ready. He was still cautious about how they were viewed by others, though surely the rumor mill had started by now. She might need to have a conversation with Varric about the new nickname. 

Solas went around the cabin casting the wards, and Thenera noted the eyes around them. She was in a more secluded part of Haven, yes, but the anxiety was beginning to rise. He picked out a spot on a rock outside to read, not directly in front of the door, but off to the side to make it look less like he was guarding her. She nodded her thanks and went inside the cabin.

The steam wreathed up from the bath, and it felt more like staring down an enemy than something that had once given her so much solace. She grabbed her hunting knife and placed it at the side of the tub, and then rummaged through the initial shipment of toiletries that Josie had provided, sniffing them in turn. She decided on a violet scent instead. 

She eyed the tub warily, and began to strip, heart rate already beginning to rise. She got down to her smalls and decided that was plenty for now. They needed to be washed anyways. Without giving herself time to think about it, she got in, lowering herself into the hot water. 

It felt nice. Her heart still pounded, but the hot water felt good after so long. She closed her eyes to savor, but suddenly her adrenaline spiked, flashes of that night in Redcliffe playing behind her eyes. She opened them abruptly, gasping for air. Tears brimmed, and she felt weak, so weak. She took a few deep, steadying breaths, unable to keep her eyes from darting to the door and window even as they watered. She resolved to wash her hair as quickly as possible and get out. She scrubbed harder than intended, trying not to close her eyes, and rinsed. 

Each time her eyes shut she remembered a tiny piece of that night. Her fingers scrabbling for purchase on the cord. The grim look on the assassin’s face. The feeling of her foot slipping, costing her that crucial moment to react. 

She got out of the tub as soon as the soap was out of her hair, and dried herself hurriedly, only now stripping fully, and redressed as soon as she was dry enough to keep from wearing damp clothing. She shook herself, trying to loosen the grip of anxiety. Her shoulders had inclined with tension, and she forced them back. After a few more steadying breaths, she left her cabin. 

“Thank you, Solas.” She said, calm mask firmly in place.

“You’re welcome, Lethallan. I believe we both have other obligations, I will leave you to yours.” He smiled and took his leave, and Thenera went about her preparations with the vigor of avoidance.


	37. The Red Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're finally here. To Redcliffe, and the terrible future.

“Your men are dead Alexius.” Thenera stated flatly, bracing herself for what was about to happen.

“You are a mistake! You should never have existed!” 

“No!” Dorian cried.

And then Alexius ripped a hole in time. The veil lurched and crackled around her, and when they arrived, it didn’t feel like she was used to. It was… Fraying. Or maybe frayed. 

They found themselves knee deep in disgusting water, red lyrium taint soaking into every pore. Thenera and Dorian quickly dispatched the Venatori guards, and she fished through the bilge for the key she knew they would find. 

“Displacement? Interesting! It’s probably not what Alexius intended. The rift must have moved us... To what? The closest confluence of arcane energy?” He mused. “The last thing I remember, we were in the castle hall.”

“I think we may want to ask when, Dorian.”

“Oh! Of course! It’s not simply where, it’s when! Alexius used the amulet as a focus. It moved us through time!”

“We have to find out how to go back.”

“I’m not certain it will be a matter of snapping our fingers but yes, I quite agree. Let’s look around, see where the rift took us. Then we can try to figure out how to get back. If we can.”

She nodded, and they worked their way through this terrible future, winding their way through the traversable parts of the castle, and the red lyrium’s miasma felt like shards of fiberglass against the skin that was bare.

They found Fiona, and the she could smell the copper blood smell mixing with the sickly sweet-bitter smell of the blighted lyrium growing from her as she spoke. Thenera listened, asking a few questions, pulse pounding as she took in the hollow look in her eyes, beginning to glow from within from the taint. One year. All of this only took one year. 

They took their leave, and wound their way into the lower cells, attempting to banter with Dorian, but it was hard to be cavalier knowing what was coming. Her voice still came out confident, but she was sure it wouldn’t last. As they entered the cells, she heard humming.

“You’re not dead?” Bull asked as they approached. “You’re supposed to be dead. There was a burn on the ground and everything.”

“Alexius didn’t kill us. His spell sent us through time, this is our future.” Dorian supplied.

“Well, it’s my present. And in my past, I definitely saw you both die” He said venomously. Dorian kindly unlocked the cell for him.

“Think a rift could kill me?” Thenera shot back, and she waggled the anchor at him. He growled. 

“Just come with us.” Dorian said, exasperated.

“Why? You want to see what other tricks he’s learned?” Bull glared.

“If we find him, we might be able to get back to our own time and stop all this before it happens. Exciting, yes?” Dorian reasoned.

“Kill Alexius. Sounds good. Let’s go.” Bull replied flatly, joining them.

They began searching the other cells, finding Varric in the next room. Or… What was left of him.

“Andraste’s sacred knickers, you’re alive?” Lyrium Varric asked as they approached his cell. “Where were you? How did you escape?”

“We didn’t escape. Alexius sent us into the future.” Dorian answered.

“Everything that happens to you is weird, Glowy.” He said, hope springing into his eyes. 

“You’re telling me. You don’t look so hot, Longshot.” She unlocked the cell, trying for wry, but this shit was way too heavy.

“Bite your tongue. I look damn good for a dead man.” Varric managed a grin, twisted by the glow surrounding him, and something in Thenera loosened while something else tightened.

“You’re no more dead than we are.” Dorian added, and Thenera clenched her jaw. 

“The not-dying version of this red lyrium stuff? Way worse. Just saying.” Varric stated flatly. Luckily, he wouldn’t make it to that. Or. Unluckily. Augh.

“We get to Alexius, and I just might be able to send us back to our own time. Simple, really.” Dorian said cavalierly. 

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘simple.’ You want to take on Alexius? I’m in. Let’s go.” 

Now… It was just Solas. She braced herself, but couldn’t help the choked breath that left her as he came into view. Varric nearly reached out to pat her, and realized it was best not to touch her with the lyrium miasma. 

“Solas.” She breathed. He turned, wobbling, to face her, brows inclining in surprise. His lyrium hollowed eyes burned against hers, and she saw hope blossom inside him.

“Thenera.” He breathed. “You’re alive? We saw you die! I didn’t believe, couldn’t. But it has been so long. How?” 

Thenera rushed to unlock the cell, letting Dorian speak while she got control of her throat again.

“The spell Alexius cast displaced us in time. We just got here, so to speak.” Dorian added. 

“Can you reverse the process?” 

“Yes.” Thenera said, interrupting. 

“You can return and obviate the events of the last year? It may not be too late?” He asked, desperately hopeful. Thenera nodded. 

“Glad someone understood that.” Varric said.

“You would think such understanding would keep me from making such terrible mistakes. You would be wrong.” Solas held her gaze, hope, happiness, pain, and guilt swirling in his glowing eyes.

She desperately wanted to reach out and touch him, but every inch closer intensified the splintering feeling against her skin. There was no cure for the red lyrium taint, and she had no idea how much it would take to infect her.

“Come on.” She choked out. 

“If there is any hope, any way to save them, my life is yours. This world is an abomination. It must never come to pass.” He told her urgently. Her eyes welled and she nodded. He reached out one hand, realized the same thing she had, and dropped it.

She threw herself into finding their way as Solas explained what had happened, The Elder One, the demon army, the assassination. They massacred every Venatori they came across ruthlessly, Bull even more brutal than usual. Solas stayed by her side, a determined shadow. 

In small, stolen moments between fights, they held a conversation, only a sentence or two at a time.

“Did you know?” He asked after putting down a Tevinter mage, and she nodded. They moved to the next area.

“And it will be undone?” Solas continued, standing back as they searched the next room. 

“Like it never occurred. Except for Dorian and I.” She returned. His eyes widened. 

“You are the one to bear the consequences.” He said, realizing, and she nodded.

They came across the first area with demons. The veil was torn to tatters. Pouring all she could through the anchor just barely managed to knit the threads tenuously back together. It wouldn’t hold long, and fenedhis, did it hurt.

“Ir abelas-” He choked back something, and her heart caught. “I don’t believe I can help in this state. Thenera.” He said her name like it might be a prayer.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be ok-.” She bit back what she wanted to say, the word pounding through her veins. Though… There was no time like this present. Her stomach lurched. Maybe not this second.

They made it into the terrible courtyard, and she heard Solas make a strangled sound, and his voice carried.

“The veil is shattered. There is no boundary now between this world and The Fade.” He said, grim. Demons rushed them, and they moved to dispatch them.

Afterwards, she couldn’t help it.

“Is this what it will be like when you succeed?” She asked quietly, concern writ on her face. He froze. “I know, Vhenan.” 

“You… know..?” He asked, attempting to process. Their eyes met and she shrugged as he boggled.

“Since the beginning, ma’fen.” Just then they made it to another patch of demons, and they fell into practiced motions and muscle memory. 

“Fenedhis I shouldn’t have said anything.” She said as the last demon dropped. His jaw worked and brows furrowed, not knowing how to proceed. They continued on, finding more Venatori down a hallway.

“I don’t know, Vhenan. Maybe.” He answered quietly, tortured look in his eyes. A grin split her face despite herself, despite the horror everywhere and the knowledge that this Solas was going to die soon. Her hands reached out for him again and she just barely curtailed them.

“The tainted lyrium has changed it. I hope.” He continued. She hoped too. They wound down a hallway. Leliana couldn’t be far.

“Do you mean it?” 

“Every day since you disappeared into that rift. I am sorry. So sorry, for everything. I should have said it before I lost you. Ar lath ma.” These stolen moments were too short, and there was so much still to say.

“No Solas. Ir abelas banal. Ar lath ma. We will have more time. Just not this time.” She desperately wanted to reach out and touch him. He opened his mouth, and just then the sounds of interrogation reached their ears.

Leliana’s voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ir abelas banal- I regret nothing  
> ma'fen- my wolf
> 
> Umm I think the rest of the elvhen has been used so extensively I don't think it needs translation.
> 
> Also. I don't actually have a second chapter for this part. The next one skips to returning through the portal. BUT. If you want some extra suffering, I'll write it tonight and post it tomorrow. Things... Aren't gonna be happy again for a while, though I do have a very lovely fluff chapter once we get back to Haven. <3


	38. An Elf to Boot

She stepped out of the rift, steel in her veins. Surely, she would fall to pieces later, but for now? It was judgement day for Alexius.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Dorian called, painting on as much mask as her.

Her voice steady, she called out, and Alexius was taken away after his moment with Felix. _Everyone dies_. She couldn’t look at Solas, not yet.

She invited Fiona and the mages to join when Alistair arrived, a true alliance, and she saw Solas smile out of the corner of her eye.

Solas. Whole and untainted. The words she had admitted in that terrible future rang through her, and she looked away before her smile could turn to tears. She drank in the sight of each of her other companions, meeting their confused looks with smiles. She would explain later. Something she could actually explain, for once.

Fiona would meet them in Haven in a week. Thenera had underestimated the amount of time needed to march with a group of hundreds, and that was just fine. A little respite. They filtered out, and headed back to the camp by the East Road. Definitely no tavern tonight.

When they arrived, Harding greeted them with a hot meal and a selection of drinks, and they celebrated. They ate and drank and clinked glasses, and she and Dorian took turns telling the much abridged version of the story, leaving out the horrible ending for now. He spoke cavalierly, but Thenera could see the shadow in his eyes that echoed hers. He thankfully left out her interactions with Lyrium Solas, seeing her pained look and the way she couldn’t yet meet his gaze.

Slowly, people drifted off to bed, until it was just her and Dorian by the fire, nursing their drinks, and Dorian had cast a soundproof barrier to keep the others from waking, or hearing more than they were willing to share. Solas had given her a look as he had left, which she had pointedly ignored.

She needed this tonight.

“So, something something apostate hobo, yes?” He asked, casting a pointed look at their tent.

“Not yet. Probably someday. But not yet.” She shot him a chagrined look.

“You two were thick as thieves, and now you’re avoiding his gaze.” He cast her a quirked brow to rival her own. “We just went through hell together. Spill.”

“I may have said something to him that I’m not actually ready to say. And we… Have a strange bond.” She hesitated.

“Well that much was obvious.” He made a dramatic hand gesture and had another drink.

“So… You and Felix?” She asked, diverting.

“Maker no! I respected Alexius far too much for such a thing. He his a dear dear friend. One who will probably die sooner rather than later. Do me a favor, don’t anytime soon, alright?”

“I think we can both toast to being alive and not eaten by red lyrium.” She said, raising her glass.

“Hear hear.” He clinked with a shudder.

They went through a few turns of sad and happy drinking, apparently the exact ritual needed to officially become bffs.

Took way too much wine. What was this… Five glasses of red wine? Or six? In her tiny elven body? Well, the vint sure knew how to deal with his problems. At least the lovely buzzing in her body was pleasant, and they had swung back to happy drinking.

“Dorian! Sing me a song!” She cried, raising her glass, too intoxicated to care about her volume. It was a good thing about that barrier. He raised his glass to hers and took a swig. She made sure to just take a sip. He grinned, and opened his mouth, then shut it again just after taking the breath to start.

“I’m afraid, my little minx, that none of the Tevinter drinking songs are appropriate for your delicate sensibilities.” He patted her cheek, and she quirked an eyebrow.

“And which of my sensibilities are so… delicate?” She challenged, managing to sound perfectly sober. Probably. Maybe. He laughed, and she couldn’t help but join in.

“You’re all Heraldy! And an elf to boot! Maker, who would believe it!” She glared at him halfheartedly.

“So you think I have delicate sensibilities? Then I guess I’ll go first.” She took another swig of wine.

“About a maid I’ll sing a song, sing rickety, tickety-tin...” She started singing, soft and low.  
“About a maid I’ll sing a song,  
who didn’t have her family long.  
Not only did she do them wrong…..  
She did every one of them in, them in.  
She did every one of them in.”

Dorian let out a whoop, and indulged in another drink. She continued the song, detailing how she killed each member of her family brutally, finally confessing to the authorities because; “Lying she knew was a siiiiiin.”

Dorian cheered for her, and she took a mock bow and another long drink.

“Not such a delicate elven flower, are you?” He grinned. “But I think that was quite enough singing for the night, I’m afraid I’d sound ghastly after your radiance.” He rolled the ‘r’ in a wonderful exaggerated way. “And I believe we should both call it an evening now, given the dreadful hour, and before we cycle back to sad drinking.”

“I’m sure your incredible Vint voice is ages better, I am merely an alright bard. I think I have two songs in my repertoire suitable for public use. However! Since you have shown grace in the face of defeat, I will allow it.” She bowed dramatically again, and they took their leave from the fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this song is one I sing occasionally at Ren Faire, it's called An Irish Ballad, and it is twisted. I love it. Though I weirdly don't like the versions up on Youtube all that much. Oh well!


	39. Squishy

She stumbled into her tent, the one she was sharing with Solas. She had avoided looking at him too much after stepping out of the rift, and it had begun to try his patience. It was time to face him, if he was still awake. The memory of him hollowed with lyrium, reaching out and unable to touch her, burned.

He was asleep. Maybe it would wait for another night. She stumbled in the tent, attempting to shed her boots in the confined space, and making a terrible ruckus.

“Fenedhis.” She swore, and Solas woke. He blinked away the sleep, clearly more interested in her time adventure than The Fade this evening. However, when he took in her condition, his lips tightened into an annoyed line. She finally declared victory on her boots and sat on her bedroll, facing him, his personal effects neatly laid out between them.

“You’ve been drinking I see. With the would be magister? How much have you had?”

“Probably too much.” Thenera admitted. “Varric and Bull too, but they went to bed. But then Dorian abandoned me to the night mercilessly after admitting defeat to my radiance.” She mimicked his rolled ‘r’ and giggled. Why must she always giggle when nervous?

“I see.” He said, lips in a tight line. Her bravado faltered, cracking under words exchanged in another time.

“Can… Can I say something?” She asked. His annoyance turned into… Curiosity? Concern? Unclear. Oh booze.

“Of course, Thenera.” He sat, folding his legs under himself carefully, and he blessedly cast a soundproof barrier. This might just be her favorite spell.

“Solas… I….” She let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you know what it’s like when you wear armor all the time? And it starts feeling like your skin, and people think it is, so it becomes your skin. It gets harder and harder to take it off, to feel so exposed and so _squishy_. But the longer you go without taking it off the more desperately your skin underneath needs to breathe. But you can’t. It fuses around the edges and the parts you can take off… It’s like you need to put up a barrier before you even can. The armor is part of you. But it’s only part. And…” Her voice faltered. She let out another sigh. Stupid words. “Do you know what that’s like?”

“I… yes. I think I do.” He said solemnly.

“Can I please be squishy for a little while?” She closed her eyes while she said it, afraid to see the look that might meet her. After a moment, she managed to raise her gaze. He nodded, and relief flooded her. She threw herself across the tent and wrapped her arms around him, tight. Probably too tight. He froze for a moment, and then his arms wrapped around her, comforting.

“You did not need the wine to be your barrier for this, da’len.” He murmured against her. Oh. His voice against her like this vibrated through her, magical and solid and _alive_. It broke the dam.

“I watched you die.” She got out as the tears began to spill against his tunic. “The red lyrium ate you from the inside and I couldn’t save you.”

“It’s alright. That future will never come to pass, thanks to you.” His hand stroked her hair. It was nice. So very nice. Her already floaty head got a little floatier at the gentle touch. _I am dying but no matter_. His voice played, blight whispering behind his words.

“I know. It’s not enough. I saw so much pain and suffering and now it’s just… gone. You endured a year of torture, and I couldn’t help. And now we’re back and none of it happened, but it was real.” A sob wrenched its way free.

“It’s alright to mourn, da’len.” He murmured. Her grip sagged, and he tilted her head up, wiping the tears away. “What you saw must never be allowed to transpire. Allow this to blaze a path to this ‘Elder One’s’ downfall.”

“You died for me.” She sobbed, and Solas rocked her gently for a few minutes, his breath against her hair.

“Then I must have thought it was worth it.” He responded finally.


	40. Respite

She woke in his arms, head pounding. She remembered everything, at least. As her sobs quieted, he had sung the lullaby from her Dalish childhood until she drifted to sleep. Her other life… It had been a bad day, and she hadn’t even known why. 

She raised her head from his shoulder. His eyes met hers unexpectedly. He was already awake, and he hadn’t run away. For once. 

“Ir abelas. Ma serannas.” She said.

“What is it you always say? Tel’abelas, da’len.” His voice rumbled against her, and he didn’t let go. She didn’t say anything. Just wiggled closer against his side, biting down on words she’d said in another life. Yesterday. It already felt so long ago. “We should wake. It’s quite a bit later than usual, and though you have been given some respite, it is bound to come to an end soon.”

“Give me a minute to put my armor back on?” She murmured, savoring the moment. He was right; it couldn’t last. 

“Of course.” He didn’t try to talk her out of it, and she was grateful. 

She began, releasing the comfort she’d clung to for the night, settling a barrier back between them. Next, she donned her wit, and confidence. And finally, her scars. She let them settle over her, an impenetrable barrier, and finally, she extricated herself from Solas’ embrace. Despite all her protestations. 

Then she winced, movement making her head pound. And Solas, the monster, had the audacity to laugh.

“Rude. So rude. Are you just going to lay there laughing, or are you going to help me?”

“Obviously, I will help you, da’len.” He chuckled, sat up next to her, and raised a hand to her forehead. She felt his magic course through her, now as familiar as the feel of her bow, and the headache melted away. “I believe you will still need extra water this morning, but that should help.” 

His hand lingered on her face, and she looked into his eyes, grey-blue, and too deep. How was he not pulling away? He was so close, and for once, the chasm didn’t seem so insurmountable. Her hand, the traitor, raised to his face. The moment stretched, and the distance began to shrink. It was too soon, but she couldn’t pull herself away. Want, harsh and desperate and sweet, filled the chasm. Her eyes drifted shut.

“Lovebirds, it’s lunchtime!” Varric called, breaking the spell. The chasm snapped back in place, and they both recoiled, moment lost.

“Ugh, tell Dorian I’m never drinking with him again!” Thenera got out. She hoped the thickness in her voice would be attributed to drink and sleep and not the silver tongued elf who was still far too close, slipping under her barrier. She pulled away, and began putting on her literal armor, and Solas matched her movement.

“Solas…” She got out. She had to say something. Had to. “I… Thank you. I’m not used to having people I can let my guard down with. I think our first is the only one I’ve had in years, and it’s just not the same via letter. Too much that doesn’t translate.”

“I understand the feeling.” He smiled, sadly. She took a step closer to him. There weren’t many steps in the tent.

“Solas. If you ever need to be squishy, I’m here for you.” She brushed her fingers across his cheek. “Even you need to set it down for a while.” 

“Ma serannas, lethallan.” He smiled sadly, as though he had already decided not to take her up on it. Her fingers lingered, and she pressed her lips lightly to the top of his head, slipping from the tent before her traitorous body could demand more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't heard the Dalish Lullaby, GO LISTEN RIGHT NOW IT'S SO GOOD. 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zl3CmzQY1So


	41. Elfroot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting so close to The Breach!!!! Only one more chapter before we do....

They made their way back to Haven at a leisurely pace, still beating the mages by a couple days. Everyone was hopeful, so hopeful, and she hid the jittery feeling rising in her chest with smiles and laughter. There had been snow nearly every night, and the mountains were beginning to grow heavy with it.

When they arrived, she managed a bath by herself, and though it wasn’t easy, it was easier than the last time, and that was enough for now.

After, she began packing her bag for the tunnels. Rations, a spare cloak, a torch and flint, several elfroot potions and her precious sketchbook. She packed the dress she had made for Orlais too, winding it into a tight ball and wrapping it in oilcloth, unable to part with it. Luckily, after so much travel, most of her necessities traveled on her person with ease. 

She checked the Chantry’s stores, and wound her way down a familiar path as another light snow began, but went to see Adan instead. 

“Ah, herald is back! Good. Soon you close that accursed tear in the sky, yea?” He said gruffly.

“You know it.” She said, offering him a smile. “I brought a bunch of elfroot from our travels, how long will it take to turn this into useable potions?”

“A few days if it’s just me.”

“And if I help?”

“Less, if you aren’t incompetent.”

“Teach me, and we’ll see.”

She dove into the project. It wasn’t so unlike candy making. The elfroot must be boiled at an exact temperature for a specific time, then cooled precisely, strained, and the pulp shredded, added again, and boiled at a higher temperature for a shorter period of time. Then it was distilled, and a touch of magic pulled into it to activate its properties. It was lucky the lake was nearby, as the amount of water required was staggering. Though she supposed they were making quite a bit. They had to work in batches, as there was only so much space and containers for making such a thing, and the bundle of herbs acquired on this last venture was impressive.

She was up to her elbows in pulp when a certain elf with unfair cheekbones entered the cabin.

“Adan. Ah, Herald.” He said, almost convincing in his surprise to see her here. Or maybe the surprise was for the mess she currently presented. “I was unaware you made potions. I have come to see if I might be of assistance.”

“This is my first time.” Thenera said, grinning. “At least… At this. Never learned in my clans, that was always someone else’s job. They’re weird about one person doing too many jobs. Your assistance would be appreciated though, lethallin.”

“I see. I have learned many skills of necessity. Shall I help pulp or fetch water?” He asked, pointedly ignoring her inappropriate comment.

“Fetch water. Our herald isn’t wholly incompetent at this.” Adan said, and Solas nodded, a note of irritation flickering on his face before heading to the door and grabbing buckets.

“Then I shall return shortly.”

“Ma serannas, Solas.” She said, smile on her lips to hide the flutter of anxiety in her chest. At least she had him to help her prepare. At least for now. 

They managed to make use of nearly half the elfroot that day, Adan making disparaging remarks regularly. When they finally left the reluctant apothecary, it was growing dark, and the corded muscles in her hands and forearms ached in a very different way than she was used to, but she didn’t dare take a potion. It would subside on its own. 

“Would you join me for a meal in my cabin, lethallan?” Solas asked, as she was about to suggest the tavern. 

“That sounds lovely.” She smiled at him, and they ducked into his door.

He rummaged for a moment, pulling out a loaf of bread, some cheese, and some berries he must have gathered nearby, and Thenera helped herself to the floor in front of his fireplace. He arranged himself across from her, and laid out a clean cloth to set their meal on.

“You have never shown an interest in potion making before, lethallan.” He said without preamble, question obvious. He tore off a piece of bread and handed it to her, fingers brushing hers, and tore another for himself.

“We’re going to need them.” She said simply, tearing off a smaller piece and chewing carefully, trying not to get distracted.

“Soon?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Soon.” She stated.

“Can you say more?” He asked, clearly wanting to push.

“I don’t think so.” She said, a faint line of worry creasing her brow as she popped a berry in her mouth. “We need to be as ready as possible though. The stores in the Chantry seem light. I would have us be as prepared as possible. You should pack a bag of essentials and things you can’t be without.”

“Then why not tell a select few what is coming, at the least? You could say it a gift from the mark.” He did press, then, taking a bite of bread.

“If I did that, I think too much would change.” She cut a piece of cheese. “As terrible as some of the steps are, I know they lead to victory. Would you compromise a victory for the sake of a single battle?” He mulled it over, but she knew he would agree.

“Ah. I see your reasoning. I would not.” He looked into her eyes, calculating. 

“Then help me make potions tomorrow, please.” She gave him a small smile, and he nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I completely bsed the potion making process. If you happen to have more info on how it's actually done, I would love that.
> 
> Edited to make canon compliant! At least to what we currently know of how potions are made, though still embellished!


	42. Puddle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely unnecessary fluff chapter. Not NSFW.... But... not entirely SFW either. Thenera and Solas trade massages after making potions all day. Somehow, no smut happened, though it was a near thing.

They continued their meal in relative silence, and she caught Solas making a pained expression as he reached for the last bit of bread.

“Hurting?” She asked, ignoring the pain in her own hands and arms.

“I will be fine. I am simply unused to that particular physical activity.” He placated, smoothing a small smile on. She shifted, ready to stand and move, and reached out to him.

“May I?” She asked tentatively. He looked at her uncertainly, and nodded.

She rose and settled behind him, placing her hands on his bunched shoulder muscles, and began working them carefully. He let out a low moan, and a jolt of heat split through her and settled in her core. He seemed as startled by the sound as she was, but she very carefully ignored it and began easing the tension from his muscles.

A low rumble sounded in his chest and vibrated her fingers. Fuck. She focused on the task instead of the way her thighs were starting to vibrate, carefully working the knots from the space between his shoulder blades and spine, bracing her other arm across his chest for support. She moved to the front of his shoulders next, dipping her fingertips into the joint with his chest, an often neglected spot that solicited another rumble. As that released, she carefully let him go, and stood, moving around him. He raised his gaze, questioning, as she knelt in front of him.

“Shh, lethallin. I promise I won’t take advantage of you. Rest your head on my shoulder.” He reluctantly obeyed her, and she used the leverage to stretch and tease the muscles of his neck into something less resembling gravel. He made a low noise again as she hit the sensitive spot at the base of his skull, and she rethought her promise as heat flooded her body, puddling in her smalls.

She carefully, gently, released him, and he gazed into her, unfocused but burning. She looked away before she could drown, and took one of his hands in hers, kneading the pad of his thumb, the pebbles at the base of his palm, and the splayed web that connected each finger. She worked her way up his forearm, corded muscle barely yielding, and he hissed as she dug into the release point at the top of the muscle.

“Should I back off?” She asked, voice low and rough.

“No. That feels…” He trailed off, eyes fluttering shut. “No.”

Thenera let out a soft, small laugh, working that spot a bit longer before moving on.

She matched her previous pattern on his other arm, eliciting more delicious noises, and finally, made her way to his head.

She worked at his tight jaw muscles, his temples, behind his ears, and over the smooth expanse of his skull, slowly, carefully, delighting in every twitch of his brows and the way his mouth fell open.

When she finished, she pulled back, and Solas caught her wrist. His eyes opened, and a pit of _want_ sent shivers through her.

Well. She would certainly need some ‘self care’ after seeing that face on him, and hearing those fucking gorgeous sounds.

“Thenera…” He murmured. “You are quite skilled at that.”

“I did tell you I had many skills. Back in Val Royeaux.” She managed, attempting light but voice still rough. She looked into his eyes, blood rushing away from her brain. He still held her wrist, and there was no reality that had her pulling away from him.

“So you did.” He chuckled then. “I find myself more and more curious.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.” His eyes bore into hers. All he had to do was lean forward and move her caught wrist, and she’d be trapped beneath him… Possibilities, an endless litany of terrible ideas, played in her mind.

“I would be curious about your skills as well.” She said thickly, biting her lip, and he laughed. In a moment of tenuous control, he dropped her wrist, resting her hand in his instead.

“May I return the favor, then?”

“You may need a mop to get me out of here if you do.”

“You aren’t discouraging me, da'len.”

“Then I guess I’ll allow it.” Her heart pounded, and he began patiently working on her hand. She choked back the moan that threatened to snap her tenuous control.

“Your thumbs!’ He exclaimed, stuck somewhere between shock and horror. “How often are they like this?”

“Oh. That’s normal. They’re always like that.” She managed, barely. His fingers on her were making her brain stop wordsing, but they had been that way for years, raised and separated. He made a disapproving noise, and doubled down on his efforts, turning off her brain entirely.

And then he began weaving his magic into her.

The flavor was familiar, distinctly his, reminding her of naps in the grass and campfires and the smell of leather. Of ancient ruins and the tingle of the veil where it brushed, threadbare, against her skin. It washed through her, warm and cold working through her muscles with a gentle touch, and she did moan. His responding chuckle sent another jolt of heat through her.

“Solas… I…” The plea died on her lips.

“Yes, ma’da’len?” He asked, a rich, challenging timbre in his voice that didn’t help matters any.

Wait. Had he just? She must have misheard. Or just heard what she wanted to hear. Brain was mush, so odds were good.

“Mmmm…” She responded, words gone as she slipped her eyes closed. She felt herself weaving, unable to hold herself upright as he coaxed her overwrought muscles into submission with his fingers laced with magic. He was patient. So very patient.

“Lean your head against me. I promise not to take advantage of you.” She could nearly hear his smirk at that, and she whined, but did as he bade, resting her head against him.

He worked his way up her forearms, slowly, thoughtfully. Maddeningly. His breath grazed across her neck and she shivered.

She was taught as a bow string, and somehow a puddle. A very inarticulate puddle. Which was probably good or she would be begging him to have her in any and every way he wanted.

“I fear I should stop, or we might get carried away.” _Please_ , she thought. _Please_. She only managed a noise somewhere between a whimper and a grumble. He released her hands, and she slowly drew back, pulse pounding between her legs.

“I have never seen you quite so inarticulate… I must say it’s quite endearing.” He taunted, delight obvious. She swallowed and attempted to reboot her brain.

“Massage good, words bad.” She finally managed lamely. She tested her hand movement, and found her grip like mush. “Hands no work now.”

He laughed. A deep, rich, musical sounding laugh that Thenera desperately wished her brain was better equipped to save.

“Shall I fetch the mop then?”

She just responded by shivering and sinking the rest of the way onto the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a pic of my scary ass thumb muscles, since it was really hard to describe, and everyone kinda freaks out the first time they notice them.
> 
> <https://dirthenera.tumblr.com/post/183406291621/off-topic-pic-is-off-topic-this-goes-with>


	43. Breach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE HERE
> 
> And this one is super short so I'm gonna upload the next too <3

Today was the day. Her nerves were taut, beginning to fray as they as they rode to the Temple of Sacred Ashes through gently falling snow, which she knew would only pick up as the night wore on.

They were as ready as they could be. She had dropped her emergency pack into the abandoned mine shaft that morning before setting out, and moved it off to a side where it would be at least a bit more protected from the snowfall. Solas and she had made the rest of the elfroot potion all the previous day, after their… Whatever that was with the massages, which had ended in Solas scooping her off the floor like she weighed nothing and settling her into his bed while he slept in front of the fire.

It was… Extremely lucky she had been too languid to attack him. Or maybe unlucky? Augh. Even if she could catch him off guard, and have him give in to her in a way he wouldn’t normally… She would never want that. He needed to make a clear decision, and give in wholly of his own enthusiasm and desire. And… There was still no way to know if cared just because of the powers she held, or if the bond between them would have existed without them. Though that was, admittedly, very hard to think about when he was looking at her. Or touching her. Or smiling. Ugh.

Her gaze snapped back into focus as they reached the ruins again. The black spiked glass and stone formations were cool now, no heat warping the air. It was a new and different kind of eerie. Cold and still and barren.

She held her head high as she dismounted, and Inquisition members and rebel mages alike followed suit. 

As they arrived in the courtyard, the anchor flared to life. Crackling, twisting, consuming. Solas and Cassandra were by her side. Words failed her as the pain intensified. It was time. She could do this. If only what came after wasn’t so much worse.

“Mages!” Cassandra called as they took up positions.

“Focus past the Herald! Let her will draw from you!” Solas instructed, pretense at humility finally dropped. His gaze was steady as he nodded to her, and she managed a nod back.

She stumbled forward, feeling the anchor spark and beginning to connect with the breach, but it was so big. A drop of blood in the vast ocean, ready to draw sharks. Or in this case, demons. The air around her moved, green light glinting and playing, ready to consume her.

And then she felt them. Individual energies, flowing into her from all angles, amplifying the power in her palm and releasing, up, ever higher, into the breach. Hot and cold, static, reassuring and dangerous and treacherous energies, all weaving and dancing through her. So many different flavors of magic from so many mages. Reinforcing her. She pushed, and it connected with a familiar sensation, only giant, so much more vast than any rift she had faced yet. She pushed more of her will, pulled more from the mages, and it a final great burst, she felt it shut.

The blowback knocked across them in a band of green light, leaving every person on their ass and setting some debris on fire. That was odd. Everything that could have burned should have by now. She caught Solas’ gaze and smiled, and a genuine, uncomplicated smile lit his face.

She looked up, dazed, into the sky. A scar now flickered, dancing between the clouds where the gaping maw had once been. It was beautiful. Maybe, like her, even scarred things could still be beautiful. She felt a hand rest on her shoulder. 

“You did it.” Cassandra said, and Thenera couldn’t help the relieved laugh that broke its way from her throat as a hundred voices raised in a cheer.


	44. Celebration Cut Short

Her cheer was short lived, as panic began bubbling on the short ride back to Haven. As they approached, they could hear the music and sounds of of a party beginning as snow continued slowly drifting from the freshly healed sky. She shot a look to Solas, who gratefully pulled his horse next to her.

“Lethallan?”

“It’s tonight.” She said with a strangled tone. He gave her an assessing look, and nodded.

“They will need you for the celebration when we return. I will make sure as much as possible is ready. Is there anything else I may do?”

“Promise me you’ll run when I tell you.” She said, as close to pleading as she could get while appearing to have an amiable conversation with a trusted ally. His lips tightened.

“I did mean something more practical.”

“I know. There’s only one more thing to do in order to prepare, and it has to be Cullen. Please, promise me.”

“And if I do not?”

“I can’t guarantee you’ll live through the night. But I will. I will beg you in any way you like if you will just promise me this now. We still need you, desperately. I will meet you.” _I still need you._

“Very well. I promise. At the end of the wolves trail?” His lips were set in a tight line. She nodded.

They wound back into the city, and from the moment she dismounted drinks were thrust into her hands. She smiled and laughed, attempting to make merry, and pretended to drink until she could find Cullen.

“A word?” She said, as light as possible. It didn’t work too well though, he took in her tone and ushered her into his command tent.

“Congratulations, Lavellan! Why do I get the feeling you aren’t much for celebrating?”

“Because tonight would be the ideal time to attack. While our pants are down, so to speak.”

His eyes narrowed.

“We have not heard anything from our scouts as of yet. However, the fact that we have not heard back may be worrisome. I did not intend to distress you with it until later this evening, past the buffer point.”

“I need a favor.” She looked at him uncertainly. “If we are attacked tonight, and if it’s by the same creature I saw in Redcliffe, I need a worst case scenario option. I need two trebuchets positioned toward the mountain. One that can bring an avalanche down on the valley, and one on Haven.”

“You wish me to set up a death trap in case of a force we have no idea is coming?” He nearly spluttered.

“Yes. And I need you to trust me. I have a very bad feeling about tonight. And if this elder one comes, he absolutely cannot get what he seeks. All of our lives aren’t worth that. Humor me. Please.” _Please. Please trust me enough for this_.

He chewed over her words carefully.

“Very well, Herald. I will humor you. They will be set up. I pray to the Maker that you are wrong.”

“I would too, if I thought it would help.”

She returned to the festivities, watching over them from a distance. It was harder to feign happiness now. Cullen walked by, grim, and caught her eye in a telling look before continuing on with purpose. The scouts had still not reported back.

“Solas confirmed; the skies are scarred but calm. The breach is sealed. We’ve reports of lingering rifts and many questions remain. But this is a victory. Word of your heroism has spread.” Cassandra said as she meandered towards Thenera, awash with relief.

“It’s not over yet Cassandra. I have a bad feeling about it.” She choked back the full scope of things.

"I agree. One success does not guarantee peace. The immediate danger is gone, to some, so is the necessity of this alliance. We must be wary. The Inquisition will need new focus.” Cassandra said, and Thenera bit back a grim smile. They would get it very, very soon.

“Forces approaching! To arms!” Cullen cried, cutting through the festive air and turning it deadly.

“What the… We must get to the gates!” Cassandra responded, panic in her voice.

“Get a small crew, get all of the residents to the Chantry, NOW. Use force if necessary. GO.” Thenera ordered, and Cassandra took off to do just that.

Her companions gathered around her, and she began giving them instructions.

“Bull, Varric, Solas, Dorian, you’re with me.”

“Just like old times! Or, future times. Terrible ones.” Dorian chimed in.

“Yep. Just like. No time travel this time. Probably.” She responded.

“So. Celebratory drinks are on hold.” Bull commented.

“I knew it was too easy.” Varric grumbled.

“Sera, Blackwall, go help Cassandra. Convince everyone to hunker down in the Chantry. Be persuasive. Vivienne, go to the Chantry and keep everyone calm. There’s blankets and rations and tons of potions. Be judicious and keep riots from occurring. Do not let people return to their homes no matter what.”

They each nodded and took off towards their tasks. She led her smaller group to the gates.

“Cullen?” Cassandra asked, worry lacing her voice.

“Foremost guard reporting. It’s a massive force, the bulk over the mountain.” The commander replied tersely.

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked.

“None.” He responded.

“None?” The Antivan ventured uncertainly. Poor, sweet Josie.

The gates rattled, and a wave of relief washed over Thenera as she heard his voice.

“I can’t come in unless you open!” Cole cried.

She ran forward and an agent opened the gates for her. Cullen followed, sword drawn, and Solas trailed a few steps behind. She saw a massive, armed figure slump and fall as Cole withdrew his daggers.

“I’m Cole. I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you.” He glanced at her face briefly, and then away. “You already know. The Templars come to kill you.”

“Is this the order’s response? I thought they would be better than this!” She could nearly hear Cullen’s faith shattering on the words. Ow.

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him. He knows you. You took his mages. There.” Cole said, and pointed to a crest. Sure enough, Corypheus came into view. A tiny, wrong looking speck in the distance, with what must be Sampson at his side. Cullen swore.

“He’s very angry you took his mages.” Cole offered, misery laced in his voice.


	45. Roderick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is kinda late today! Solas is being uncooperative, so I may or may not post any more of his side today. :/ We'll see.

“Move! Keep going! The Chantry is your temple!” 

They had battled their way through red templars and protected the trebuchets, and unleashed one on the mountainside. Casualties had been light, as her companions had done a truly admirable job on the evacuation. And of course, the not-archdemon had appeared, causing chaos and destroying the advantage the avalanche had given them. Cole was inside, clutching a dying Roderick.

“He tried to stop a Templar. The blade went deep. He’s going to die.” The spirit’s voice said.

“What a charming boy.” Roderick said, sarcasm dripping like the blood from his wound.

“Herald. Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us.” Cullen said urgently.

“I’ve seen an archdemon. I was in the Fade, but it looked like that.” Cole offered, eyes wide.

“I don’t care what it looks like!” Cullen looked ready to tear his hair out. “Its cut a path for that army. They’ll kill everyone in Haven.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village. He only wants the Herald.” Cole said, looking between them with too large eyes.

“I know. I’m going.” Thenera reassured him. Reassured them both. Except Solas, who seemed ready to argue.

“Herald. There are no tactics to make this survivable.” Cullen’s brows knit. But he wouldn’t stop her, wouldn’t dare. He had seen others make the same sacrifice, and would do it himself. He wouldn’t flinch.

“Thenera, you cannot!” Solas added. She waved him off impatiently.

“The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. I suppose your intuition was right. It is time for worst case scenario. It seems my prayers were wasted. We’ll die, but at least we can choose how. Many never get that choice.” Cullen said as determination settled over him, and she saw the acceptance of his fate written clear on his face.

“Yes, that. Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies.” Cole offered, blessedly, before Thenera slipped and said it herself. 

“There is a path. You wouldn’t know it unless you’d made the summer pilgrimage, as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me. Andraste must have shown me so I could tell you.” Roderick said between wheezes. Hope, fragile and light, blossomed in the room, and Cole smiled.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make him fight for it.” She gave him a grin, and a cocky one, to reassure him. He would be gone by the time she returned.

“ But when the mountain falls… What about you?” Cullen asked. She caught his gaze and shrugged.

“I’ve made it through worse odds. I may survive this.” She shot Solas a reassuring look, and prayed it would be enough.

“Yes. Perhaps you’ll find a way.” Cullen mused, and rallied himself. She would hardly be the first soldier left behind to clear the path for others. “Inquisition, follow Chancellor Roderick through the Chantry, move!”

“Herald, if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this, I pray for you.” Roderick said. She nodded, respecting his final words to her.

“Keep the Elder One’s attention until we hit the treeline. If we are to have a chance, if you are to have a chance, let that thing hear you.” Cullen directed

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” She said, with a twisted smile. Cullen nodded and ran off to get the whole of Haven mobilized. She turned to her companions.

“Go. Go with the refugees. They’re going to need you. The trebuchet is ready and loaded. I’m going to make some green sparkly shit to get their attention, then slip away, and rinse and repeat until you guys are safe.”

“Shit Glowy.” Varric offered. She didn’t say more, just hugged him. Bull and Sera joined in the group hug. 

“It’s been good, Boss.”

“Thanks for fixin’ the sky, your Gracious Ladybits.” 

“And right after I find such a good friend they just have to go and sacrifice themselves nobly. Of course that’s my luck.” Dorian sniffed, and she threw her arms around him. 

“Don’t count me out just yet.” She offered, releasing him. 

Finally, she turned to Solas.

“I promise. You promise?” He grimaced, and nodded. “Good. They need you. Go find Cole. You two will get along great. He’ll show you how to help best.”

He stepped forward, stopped, then in a sudden rush, pulled her against him and kissed her hair. 

“I expect you to keep your promise, lethallan. I would be furious to find you learned to lie now, of all times.” He murmured against her, too low for anyone to hear, and broke away as abruptly as the embrace had started, leaving her staggering.

“Of course now Chuckles decides it’s ok to show his feelings.” Varric grumbled.


	46. Coryphytits

“Enough!” Corypheus loomed, so much taller than she had expected him to be. And there was a goddamn blighted dragon, boxing her in. “You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more.”

His voice boomed. The air surrounding her was thick with the corrupting feel of the blight, and the miasma of red lyrium. He was still too big, too powerful, for her to face. But she was going to survive this. She stood tall and stared down her nose at him, harnessing the screaming adrenaline in her veins. 

“Oh, how rude of me. Are you sure we can’t talk this out? Maybe grab some wine?” She called, as nonchalant and disdainful as she possibly could.

“Such things are far beneath the will before you. Know me. Know what you are pretending to be. Exalt the Elder One. The will that is Corypheus. You will kneel.” He pointed one clawed finger at her, his distorted face twisting in contempt.

She laughed. She simply couldn’t help it. The adrenaline forced into inaction bubbled out of her lungs. It had always been a flaw of hers. His dragon pretending to be an archdemon roared at her, painful, forcing her to stop, her shaking legs barely holding her upright.

“Oh that’s rich! You think I want to look like you? I’m way prettier. You sure you don’t want to pretend to be me, Coryphytits?” She sneered. Fuck this guy.

“YOU WILL KNEEL.” The words reverberated through the air, and for a moment, she thought she wouldn’t even need the loaded trebuchet behind her, the sheer volume would cause the avalanche all on its own.

“I don’t think so. In fact, pretty sure never is a good word.” She tamped down on the shake in her limbs brutally as he approached her. This was all part of the plan. 

“You will resist. You will always resist. It matters not. I am here for the anchor. The process of removing it begins now.” 

The orb, Solas’ foci, began to crackle red, spitting the miasma she wished she wasn’t getting used to, and he shot the power through his body to his other hand. The anchor flared, and crackling pain shot up her arm and through her body, wrenching towards the blighted thing in front of her. Again, a laugh bubbled, high and wild. 

“It is your fault, ‘Herald’. You interrupted a ritual years in the planning. And instead of dying, you stole its purpose.” 

The ripping got worse, stealing the breath from her lungs and quieting the ill timed laugh.

“I do not know how you survived. What marks you as touched, what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens. And you used the anchor to undo my work. The gall.”

He curled his fingers, sparking something angry and vile in the anchor, and it flickered red. She could feel it changing as he attempted to infect it and tear it from her flesh, and she dropped to her knees, struggling desperately to remain conscious through the pain.

“Then take it if you can.” She yelled through clenched teeth. Possibly sounding nearly as mad as the blighted magister in front of her. He walked forward, too tall, too booming over her tiny frame. She should spit on him.

“Mortals have always tried thus. Praise me, for I would end the silence that answers.” He reached down, grabbing the anchor by her wrist and hauling her bodily up, dislocating her shoulder with a pop. Well, at least she knew how to reset her own damn shoulder. The pain was too loud for speech now, buzzing and overwhelming.

“I once breached The Fade in the name of another, to serve the Old Gods of The Empire in person. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused. No more. I have gathered the will to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world. Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty!” 

He threw her. Right next to the trebuchet release, and a sword. She scrabbled for the sword, struggling to lift it with only her right hand. Had to make it look like she was going to fight. The surge of the anchor became a bit more bearable, and the other pains were easy to ignore with adrenaline coursing.

“The anchor is permanent. You have spoiled it with your stumbling.” He stated, fury laced through his words. “So be it. I will begin again, find another way to give this world the nation, and God, it requires.”

The flare from the refugees blessedly went up in the distance. Perfect timing. A fierce grin split her face. 

“And you. I will not suffer even an unknowing rival. You must die.”

“Do you ever get tired of your own voice? I’ve only been listening to you speak for a few minutes and I feel like I need a nap! I think you need one too! Here’s your blankie!” Ok, not the best, but hey, brain frying anchor pain would do that to a girl.

She dropped the sword and hit the trebuchet release. Corypheus turned to look, the exact perfect opening for her to make a mad dash to her escape. He turned back to see her flee, but it was too late. His dragon wrapped him up and took him away to safety, and she just barely managed a graceless tumble into the grate.


	47. The Wolves Trail

The snow broke her fall at the bottom, and the anchor still thrummed and surged with pain. Even through her gloves, light poured out. Guess it made the torch less necessary. First thing, reset the shoulder. The longer it was out the harder it would be to set. She lay down, relaxing the muscles as much as possible while carefully moving her arm up, as though she was making a snow angel, and pushed through the screaming resistance until she felt a pop as it snapped back, at least mostly in place. Only sore now.

She gathered her pack and downed a potion, letting the scrapes and bruises and exhaustion melt away, leaving her shoulder nearly normal and she pulled on the cloak. It was bitterly cold, and it seemed the cloak wasn’t offering quite the protection she hoped for. She lit the torch despite not needing the light, reveling in the heat it availed. Ok. 

Now to make it out without leaving frozen appendages by the wayside. She dug for her rations, planning to chew and walk, but something had gotten to them, and there was a chewed hole through the side of the pack to get to the food that had been contained inside. Wonderful. She glanced down at her cloak, seeing holes. That explained the extra breeze. Well, the best laid plans… 

She made her way through the tunnels, anchor pulsing with whatever terrible thing Coryphytits had done to it. Oh right, a fun new ability. Bet that was going to hurt in new and exciting ways.

The tunnel wound ever North, and she picked through the icy terrain with much more care than she had the first time. This was going to take hours. And the mark was still pulsing painfully. The cold on her hand was nearly a relief, until her fingers went numb and stiff.

Finally, she made it to the point where she could see the light from the moon outside, the exit, and she paused. 

True to her memories, spirits lurked there, and she felt the anchor surge in a nearly overwhelming way. She set down the torch, carefully, and pointed the mark towards them, focusing on the space in the center of their little group, and released the stored energy. 

It ripped and tore through her, her whole body a conduit, and when it released, it left her an exhausted shell as it boomed. But there were no more spirits in her path. Yay Fade nuke. She took a deep, steadying breath, and pulled another potion from her pack. Thank whatever mysterious thing that brought her here with foresight for this. 

The exhaustion loosened, but the cold was still seeping in, too far, despite her extra socks and added cloak. She made her way out of the opening, and into the blizzard. The torch blew out nearly immediately, and she cast it aside, focusing on pulling the cloak as tight as possible around her against the onslaught of wind. It pierced through the holes, but so much better than it would have been without. She heard the wolves, sounding desperate in the storm, and followed their cries. Was it Solas? Or just a coincidence? She wished she could ask him, though it hardly mattered at the moment. She focused on the walk. Her muscles moving, one foot, then the other, and again, pulling her hood low against the battering wind, snowflakes slapping and stinging her face where the hood couldn't reach.

Her breath came out ragged, torn away by the wind, every exhale stealing heat, replaced by freezing cold that stung her lungs. She sunk her face into the scarf as the wind pulled the heat from her in swipes and howls, so different than the howls that sounded her salvation.

There was no way to know how long she continued like that until the storm finally lightened. The howls became clearer, more insistent, but the snow was deeper now, nearly to her knees, and every step was a struggle. She wasn’t sure her toes were going to make it. She stumbled every few steps. It would be so easy to just let go. Curl up and conserve heat as long as possible, rest her aching muscles that only got stiffer with each strangled step. The howls cut through her thoughts. No. She had to make it through. Had to make it back to Solas. Had to keep her promise. Had to live.

She renewed her pace, letting her stumbling lead her forward, no grace left, only determination and sheer willpower.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she saw lights, and collapsed in relief, tears freezing on her cheeks. She dimly heard Cullen and Cassandra approaching as everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironic to be posting this while I currently have snow up to my knees in some of the drifts just outside my door. I think imma need some hot tub time, every time I reread this chapter I get cold.
> 
> Also. Wanna guess how many times I've reset my own shoulders? So much fun.


	48. Our People

She awoke, as expected, to arguing. What she was not expecting was Solas in front of her, instead of Mother Giselle. And she was warm.

“Solas! Why are you? The injured!” She sat bolt upright. “Wait. How am I warm again?”

“Magic, obviously.” He answered, relief writ in the smile on his face. “You did well, lethallan. There were few injuries, and ample supplies. The wounded have been tended to as best possible, and casualties were lower than anyone would have anticipated. You, however, were nearly at risk of not keeping your promise.”

Relief crashed through her, and she threw her arms around him. The advisors could keep arguing for a while yet. She needed this.

“It’s ok. We made it through. And most of Haven did too. We made it.” She said it as a mantra, relief wracking through her as she repeated the sentiments, more for herself than Solas. She finally managed to draw back from him, too many emotions warring, and she was still exhausted.

“I believe it is you who made this possible. Though we are still stranded in a remote valley, in the wilderness, in a fair amount of snow.”

“Minor details.” Thenera grinned. Mother Giselle made her way over, and Solas withdrew to a respectable distance.

“I am glad to see you awake.” She greeted, warmth and calm and exactly what was needed. “You still need rest though. It has been a long night.”

“Little hard to sleep through that.” She waved towards the still arguing advisors, and she caught Solas’ smile in the background.

“They have that luxury, thanks to you. The enemy could not follow, and with time to doubt, they turn to blame. Infighting may threaten us as much as this Corypheus.”

“We’ll sort it. We have good people.” She said, as the advisors quieted, finally.

“Our leaders struggle because of what we survivors witnessed. We saw our defender stand… and fall. And now, we have seen her return. The more the enemy is beyond us, the more miraculous your actions appear. And the more our trials seem ordained. That is hard to accept, no? What ‘we’ have been called to endure? What ‘we’ perhaps, must come to believe?” The mother said, and the words thrummed with her faith. It hung, sweet and heavy, filling the air.

“I have faith. Just not the same brand as you. I understand the place of the Chant, I just… Disagree.” She stood, disentangling herself from her blankets, needing to shed the weight both literal and metaphorical.

And then the singing began. Mother Giselle first, low and tender, then Leliana, so sweet and pure, and Cullen, and so many more, voices weaving together into something so large, so powerful, tears welled in her eyes. It was beautiful, and needed, and also too much. She saw Solas, standing apart, with an expression of pride on his face. Pride in her. Cole was nearby too, and she saw Roderick take his final breath as Cole bowed his hat.

The song faded, and she struggled to regain her composure. She turned toward Solas, an invisible tug alerting her to his soundless approach.

“A word.” He asked, and turned, walking from camp, leading her without a glance back, trusting her to follow. The heaviness began to dissipate, leaving unspent adrenaline in its wake.

His feet barely seemed to touch the snow as he led her to the veilfire brazier, lighting it in a motion both surreal and far, far too familiar. She held back, watching the wave of his hand and the way he walked, all pretense at humble apostate dropped, and every inch the evanuris he was.

It probably said something about her that she’d fallen for the one person who met catastrophe with a smile.

“Lethallan?” He quirked a brow at her, smiling still.

“Give me a moment to savor, lethallin.” She inhaled the crisp air, felt the wind on her skin, and took him in. Standing on the snow, feet unbothered by the cold, his tunic swaying with the breeze, ears pink with cold. She let her eyes rove over his body, blatantly, for the first time. His shoulders, hands folded neatly behind his back, right above the rather nice curve of his ass. She really hoped she’d get the chance to feel that someday.

“Enjoying the view, Thenera?” He asked, amused.

“Oh yes. Very much. I don’t know if anyone’s told you, but you’re beautiful when you aren’t pretending to be humble.” She smiled, and clomped less gracefully through the snow to stand across from him.

“I take it you’ve seen this then?” He asked, head tilting, mirth in his expression.

“Nowhere near enough times. And the clarity of seeing this, not in a dream? Ma serannas for the moment.” She granted.

“Do you know what I’m about to say then?”

“Umm… Better say it, just to make sure.” She quirked a brow at him.

“You are incorrigible. I thought your dreams ceased yielding consistent results after sealing the breach?” He asked, always attempting to learn more.

“There are still moments. This is one of the better ones.” She answered, smiling.

“I see. Will there be a day you stop being a mystery?”

“Probably. But don’t think that means I’ll stop surprising you.”

“Now that would be truly surprising.” He met her gaze, warm and deep and oh so perfectly Solas. “The humans have not raised on of our people so high in ages beyond counting. Their faith is hard won, lethallan, but worthy of pride, save for one detail; the threat Corypheus wields, the orb he carried, it is ours. Corypheus used the orb to open the breach, unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the conclave. We must find out how he survived, and we must prepare for the reaction when they learn the orb is of our people.”

“You said our.” She grinned. “And yes, humans just love to blame elves for everything. Is this what you were hiding when we spoke in the Fallow Mire?” She obfuscated. Asking questions was far easier than lying outright.

“Indeed, I feared telling you this too soon, as I suspect you have done to me many times.” He quirked a brow, and she inclined her head.

“Maybe. What else can you tell me about the orb?”

“You don’t know?” He asked, ready to press again.

“I only know what you’ve told me, Solas.” She answered honestly. Just… Some of them were things he hadn’t told her yet.

“Very well. Such things were foci, said to channel power from our gods. Some were dedicated to specific members of our pantheon. All that remains are references in ruins, with faint visions of memory in The Fade, echoes of a dead empire. But however Corypheus came to it, the orb is Elvhen, and with it, he threatens the heart of human faith.”

“Gotta love how we just keep getting screwed, huh? Even if we win against Coryphytits, they very well might blame us, use it as an excuse to burn alienages and hunt clans. Not that they need much of a reason now, what with disgusting mess of Halamshiral.”

He inclined his head, just the barest of degrees, pride still suffusing his face.

“I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate, but we must be above suspicion to be seen as valued allies. Faith in you is shaping this moment, but needs room to grow. By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it, changed you.” She closed her eyes, savoring the words as something unnamed filled her, something deep and powerful that brought tears to her eyes. “Scout to the North, be their guide. There is a place that waits for a force to hold it. There is a place where the Inquisition can build, grow.”

_Skyhold_ , she thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else tear up like... Every time you even listen to this scene? Because... Yep.


	49. Inquisitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The elvhen, since it's at the beginning of this chapter! 
> 
> Terasyl'an Tel'as- the elvhen name for Skyhold. Literally "Where the sky is held back"
> 
> Seranna ma- Thank you
> 
> Nuvas ema ir'enastela - Thank you so very much
> 
> Ma malava halami - Old idiom, basically "You spent your time for me, thank you." Intimate, usually used between family or lovers.
> 
> So basically a really fancy way to say "Thank you thank you thank you"
> 
> Ara melava son'ganem - My time is well spent- archaic and intimate to match 'Ma malava halami.'

The moment Terasyl’an Tel’as came into view was magical. She could swear she was hearing the music swell, and Solas stood by her side, watching her take it in. Tears welled in her eyes and she threw her arms around him.

“Seranna ma! Nuvas ema ir’enastela! Ma melava halami!!! You are a wonder!” She laughed, breathless against him.

“Ara melava son’ganem” He responded, rumbling against her. 

Their moment was cut short, like so many on this flight through the mountains, and they separated as others came into view. She smoothed on the strength of the Herald, and led them to the bridge with a triumphant smile. 

It was dusk on the second day at Skyhold when they ambushed her. 

She was sweaty, covered in dirt and dust and all manner of other things from working to clean and rebuild the ruins.

Morale was low after the days long trek through freezing mountains, to arrive with little more than the clothes on their backs and hope that had grown threadbare with each passing hardship. Still, they worked as if their lives depended on it, because, well, it did. The valley directly below Skyhold yielded ram and deer, making their way to the water’s edge, and she learned to coordinate a team of hunters to strike simultaneously, so when the pack inevitably fled, they would have more than one prize to return with. A small team foraged for roots in the snow, but that yielded less certain results. 

Josephine began the arduous work of reestablishing trade routes with Leliana, whose ravens were invaluable at communicating the news with scouts who had been in the field during the destruction of Haven. 

Bull and the Chargers made themselves useful lifting heavy objects and spirits, with Sera’s help on that front. They, shockingly, focused their energies on the tavern. 

Solas directed, knowing the most about the structure, and far more than he would say.

Vivienne proved an invaluable task mistress, coordinating with Josephine and Solas, making the clean up inside the halls move faster and far more efficiently. 

Dorian of course focused his energy on the library, and Fiona put her mages to good use wherever their individual talents laid. 

Cassandra and Cullen worked together with the troops, building scaffolding, patching holes in structures, hauling and sorting debris into piles based on usability, and Blackwall headed a small group to fell trees for fresh timber. 

Cole whispered among the wounded, helping where he could. She finally found time to greet him properly, throwing her arms around him with a smile. He looked at her, haunted eyes too wide and seeing too much.

“Oh! I help! You see it, see too much, like branches on a tree, twisting on your skin. How do you work?” He fixed his gaze to hers, just for a second before bobbing away. “Too bright, to many pains that aren't real yet, and so many scars, slithering and salacious. I help?”

“Yes Cole, you help very much.” She said with a smile, and his face lit.

“Thank you.” He looked at her with too wide eyes. “You're like me, you want to help.”

“I… Thank you Cole. That was possibly the best compliment you could ever give me. We will help.” She reached for his hands, squeezing them quickly, and he bobbed his hat and moved on.

And that was when Cassandra found her, pulling her away and up the steps to begin her role as Inquisitor. 

“The inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading it.” The seeker said, and Leliana held out a sword. 

People gathered below, watching, feeling the pull of history being made. She saw familiar faces. Adan, Flissa, Cullen, Josephine. More she couldn't name, and more yet who were strangers.

“You.” Cassandra said, voice so full of faith it ached. Thenera swallowed. 

“Even though I’m an elf?” She answered. 

“I would be terrified handing this power to anyone, but I believe it is the only way. They will follow. To them, seeing an elf shows how far you’ve risen, how it must have been by Andraste’s hand. What it means to you, how you lead us, is for you alone to determine.” Cassandra said, and Leliana offered her the sword, a massive thing with dragons worked around the hilt.

“To Corypheus’ defeat, and hopefully, the better treatment of elves everywhere. The Inquisition is for all.” She reached for the sword.

“Wherever you lead us.” The Seeker confirmed, nodding. 

The sword was too big, too heavy and unwieldy for her small frame, but she lifted it, refusing to let her muscle shake give her away. 

“Have our people been told?” Cassandra called out to Josephine below.

“They have! And soon, the world!” She responded, a sharp smile on her face.

“Commander, will they follow?” The seeker cried to Cullen. He turned to the troops, echoing the question, and cheers rang through the courtyard.

Will you fight?” He asked, and the cheering swelled. 

“Will we triumph?” He called, louder still. The responding boom was deafening, clattering and resounding off stone walls. 

“Your leader, your Herald, your Inquisitor!” He called. 

She raised the sword high, shaking muscles forgotten, and cheers rose around her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg can you imagine meeting Cole knowing what's going to happen? He knows everyone's secrets, and keeps them. But knowing from the Inquisitor that he does actually make a difference.... Augh feels. So many spirit bab feels.


	50. Overcompensating

“Inquisitor.” Solas greeted, warmth and mirth suffusing the title, walking beside her down the many stairs from the front doors, heading to the makeshift infirmary, which just happened to be where she was going too.

“Definitely better than ‘Herald of Andraste.’” She smiled in return. “Though I could do without the giant sword.”

“It is worthy of the title, meant to be intimidating.” He placated.

“I think it might be verging into ‘overcompensating.’ If I was a man people would be asking about my other sword.” She gave him a wry smile, and he laughed.

“Ah. Yes, that would be… Something.” He responded awkwardly. 

“Though you know I'd have a huge sword.” She winked, and he barely managed an eyeroll before the mood shifted abruptly as they caught sight of Cole, Vivienne, and Cassandra. Shit.

“This thing is not a stray puppy you can make into a pet. It has no business being here.” Thenera heard Vivienne’s cool tones as they approached, and her blood began to boil.

“Wouldn’t you say the same of an apostate?” Solas quipped in response, garnering a subdued look from the enchantress, and Thenera shot him a smile.

“Inquisitor, I wondered if Cole was perhaps a mage, given his unusual abilities.” Cassandra asked, turning to the newly minted leader.

“He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him. These are not the abilities of a mage. It seems Cole is a spirit.” Solas supplied.

“It is a demon.” The enchantress said flatly.

“If you prefer. Although the truth is somewhat more complex.” He hedged. She had told him more about Cole during their flight to Skyhold, wedged into makeshift tents that offered no personal space or privacy.

“Cole saved so many by coming to us at Haven, by giving us Roderick’s final words. None of us would be here without him.” She said, hoping to cut the argument over her favorite spirit bab short.

“And what will his help cost? How many lives will this demon later claim?” Vivienne asked imperiously.

“In fact, his nature is not so easily defined.” Solas countered, an ocean of calm, helping to temper Thenera’s flaring anger.

“Speak plainly, Solas. What are we dealing with?” Cassandra asked, at least willing to listen.

“Demons normally enter this world by possessing someone. In their true form, they look bizzarre, monstrous.” He said, spreading his hands.

“But you claim Cole looks like a young man. Is it possession?” Cassandra continued, seeking as ever.

“Cole _does_ look like a young man.” Thenera interrupted, and Solas shot her a placating look before turning back to Cassandra.

“No. He has possessed nothing and no one. And yet he is human in all respects. Cole is unique. More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so.” He said it mostly to Cassandra, as Vivienne was clearly a lost cause, and he already knew exactly what Thenera’s thoughts on the matter were. “Cole has willfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone. Unlike the demons drawn through the rifts against their will, driven mad by this world, Cole predates the breach. From what we can tell, he has lived here for months, perhaps years. He looks like a young man, for all intents and purposes, he _is_ a young man. It is remarkable.”

“I’ll talk to him. As far as I’m concerned, he’s helped and wants to keep helping. That’s more than enough for me.” Thenera said, glancing around for the familiar hat. She would fight literally everyone for Cole.

“If none of us remember him, he could be anywhere.” Cassandra said, noting her look just as she spotted him.

“Don’t worry Cassandra. It’s going to be fine.” She offered, and meandered over to the spirit, who was by the remaining wounded. Despite all efforts, there had still been some. It would have been unrealistic to hope otherwise, though her gut churned. She had yet to get final numbers from Cullen and Leliana.

“Haven. So many soldiers fought to protect the pilgrims so they could escape.” He tilted his hat, looking past her. She turned to watch the soldier his gaze was fixed on, caught in her final moments, a sacrifice to get here. “ _Choking fear, can’t think through the medicine, but the cuts wrack me with every heartbeat. Hot, white, pain. Everything burns. I can’t, I can’t, I’m going to.. I’m dying…. I’m…_ Dead.”

“Does it hurt to feel them?” She asked, watching him echo final thoughts of the dying, and settling the weight on her shoulders. There would be more, and it was best to become accustomed to it sooner rather than later.

“It’s louder this close, with so many of them.” He said carefully, haunted eyes searching, though he didn’t need them for his gift.

“Would it be better further away?” She asked, knowing he wouldn’t leave, but curious.

“Yes, but here is where I can help.” He quirked his head, moving to the next soldier at their end. “ _Every breath slower, like laying in a warm bath, sliding away, smell of my daughter’s hair when I kiss her at night._ Gone.”

He kept walking, and Thenera watched, trailing behind.

“ _Cracked, brown pain, dry, scraping, thirsty._ Here.” He pulled out a waterskin, giving a drink to the soldier.

“Thank you.” She rasped, and her expression visibly eased. It pulled something loose in Thenera too, watching Cole help. It was too bad he unsettled so many, because he was perfect, a bright light among so many flaws.

“It’s alright, she won’t remember me.” He listened, hearing the words she hadn't said.

“You’re helping.” She stated simply.

“Yes. I used to think I was a ghost. I didn’t know. I made mistakes. But I made friends too. Then a templar proved I wasn’t real. I lost my friends, I lost everything. I learned how to be more like what I am. It made me different, stronger. I feel more, I can help.” He explained.

“Yes. I would love your help.”

“Yes. Helping. I help the hurt. The helpless.. There’s someone… _It hurts, it hurts it hurts, someone make it stop hurting, Maker please._ The healers have done all they can, it will take him hours to die. Every moment will be agony. He wants mercy. Help.” He said, pleading with her as she winced. She could only hope someone would grant her the same compassion in that situation.

“Yes. Help him.”

“It’s alright.” He soothed as he knelt, voice sweet, slipping the knife where it needed to be. The soldier released their last breath, an expression of relief the last one they would know.


	51. Private Quarters

She found Leliana handing a list of names to Cullen. 

“Will you please make me a copy, Leliana?” She asked, softly.

“Do not take it too hard, Inquisitor.” Cullen started. “Our losses were light, lighter than anyone could have anticipated, yet you did. Your forethought saved many lives.”

“Glad my paranoia was helpful.” She said, as light as possible under the weight of the subject. “I’d still like a copy though. And any next of kin, I’ll write to them if it’ll help.”

“That is very kind, Inquisitor.” Leliana said. “It seems you may be guided by the Maker in more ways than we knew. I am glad. I know you do not believe, but it doesn’t make it untrue.” She closed her eyes reverently, and it was awkward, but less awkward than if Leliana had decided to question instead.

“I’m not so sure about that. Remember, I also grew up Dalish. Learning to anticipate attacks is the only way to survive. It’s a hard won paranoia.” Thenera said. It was true. Just not the whole truth, as always.

“I see. Well, regardless, I am grateful.” Cullen responded.

“As am I.” Leliana agreed with a smile. 

“I will have a copy for you later, Inquisitor.” Cullen answered.

“Thank you, Commander.” She smiled, a small sad thing, and they moved on with their duties for the day.

Varric found them while they were discussing the next steps, looking guiltier than she’d seen him. She tried to be reassuring, but she knew what Cassandra had in store when she found out. He hedged and hinted about Hawke, and Leliana laughed as he saw himself out, asking for her to meet them on the battlements, and Thenera trailed after him.

The meeting with Hawke went as well as could be expected, especially with the subsequent fallout with Cassandra. She mitigated as best she could, though, she had always been closer to Varric and it probably showed. It seemed Adamant and the Grey Wardens would be happening before the ball, and that was just fine with her. She could start her Orlesian lessons soon, learn the dances and the manners and the family lines and threads that connected them.

Though she would definitely have some say in the outfits. The red uniforms were kinda a tragedy that she would very much like to avoid. But that could wait until Skyhold was further from ruins and closer to a functioning fortress. 

The repairs were coming along well. Everyone had begun to claim their usual spots, and there were almost no holes in the roof of the main hall now. Those who hadn't made crude shelters outside the stone walls had taken up setting bedrolls along the the great hall, and gradually, as private quarters were cleared and prepped, the number began dwindling. After the first week, it was nearly empty.

“Inquisitor! A word, please.” Josephine called her over, where Leliana also awaited eagerly. Cullen was there too, though he seemed… Embarrassed? 

“We have something to show you.” Leliana added.

“I took to heart your request for a bath, and though our supply lines are not yet quite robust enough for that, we can at least provide quarters for our leader.” Josie said, smiling warmly. The bath thing had definitely been a joke, but she wouldn't complain.

They led her up oh so many flights of stairs, to the gorgeous suite flanked by balconies, and she felt a twist of guilt. This should have been Solas’ room; he gave Skyhold to her. It probably had been his room once upon a time. Or, more practically, it should be split up to be several private quarters.

“What do you think?” Leliana asked, a smile on her face.

“It’s… Incredible. Are you sure it’s ok for just me to take up this much space?” She turned to them, uncertain. 

“Absolutely, Inquisitor. Our troops have adequate accommodations, and every person here owes you their life.” Cullen said resolutely. He still looked uncomfortable, and it clicked that it was because he was in her private quarters, which few were likely to see.

“Oh. Well. I guess when you put it that way, it would be rude of me to not accept.” 

“It would.” Josephine responded with a smile that Leliana echoed.

“Thank you. For everything. I couldn’t have come so far without your guidance.” She hugged each one of them, and they excused themselves. 

She looked over the room, reveling in it. How many times had she thought how lovely of a bedroom it was? 

She could almost pretend that the owls were Andruil’s messengers, to guide her dreams, and she wondered who had painted the mural on high above the bed. She would have to ask Solas about it that evening. He had wandered off recently, probably to find a place to nap; the days had been long and hard.

Actually, a nap sounded amazing. She looked to find that her few articles of clothing had been cleaned and neatly folded in the dresser, and she snorted. That wasn’t likely to last. She opened the bottom drawer, and found her silk dress from Orlais, intact and shimmering, and she smiled. It had somehow made it through everything, though it probably would need to be repleated. A small cost to pay.

She washed up in the basin left, peeling off her sweat and dirt stained clothes, and throwing on fresh leggings and a tunic, and laid down in a bed for the first time in nearly two weeks.


	52. Not Even Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only chapter today, sorry! Next Solas one is turning out super long and it's not where I want it yet.

She found Solas in the rotunda, of course, and her breath caught to find him here, surveying the walls like she had seen so many times. They were still bare, there had simply been too much to do, and he had only just received the paints he needed.

“Thenera?” He asked, seeming puzzled to see her for some reason.

“Hi. I thought I might find you here.” She smiled. It was her first time finding him here without crews working, the first moment of relative privacy in far too long.

“You were looking for me?” He asked, seeming perplexed. How unlike him.

“I wanted to see if you had some time to talk, we’ve barely had any since we got here.”

“You continue to surprise me. Alright. Preferably somewhere more interesting than here.” He said with a smile in his voice, far too familiar, and she felt her gut twist in vague anticipation. Something felt strange, but she couldn’t quite place why.

She found herself walking alongside him in Haven. Whole, unburied Haven that made her heart ache. And something felt odd. Nearly dreamlike, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why it was so strange to be walking Haven’s streets with him. They had so many times. There were so many memories woven into this place, into the steps and the snow and the wind that rustled through the branches.

“Haven…” She said, attempting to sort through her thoughts.

“Haven is familiar. It will always be important to you.” He said, voice soothing, allowing her to simply follow along the thread of his voice.

“Yes. So much happened here.” She answered. _I met you here_.

They made their way through the Chantry doors, which opened at a gesture from Solas. It was so good when he wasn’t pretending to be humble. They meandered, closer than would generally be proper, but not quite touching, and he led her into the dungeon where this whole thing began. There, on that cot was where she woke up. There, where Cassandra questioned her. There, where everyone’s voices played a moment before they opened their mouths, so much like right now. How odd.

“I sat beside you while you slept, studying the anchor.” He looked at her, voice reverberating oddly with a memory, giving her this look… What was it? There was happiness, and confusion, and this strange sense that he was saying so much more than just the words… And he was waiting for an answer, some sort of acknowledgement.

“Ma serannas, Solas. I’m not sure I would have woken without you.” She remembered the aching pain, the tearing feeling as the anchor expanded with the breach.

“You were a mystery. You still are.” He smiled, something mysterious all on its own. “I ran every test I could imagine, searched The Fade, and found nothing. Cassandra suspected duplicity. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.” Oh, yes, of course he found nothing in the Fade, since she couldn’t go there. But he had already told her as much.

And of course, of course that had been Cassandra’s response.

“That sounds exactly like Cassandra.” She offered him a smirk, and he laughed.

“Yes, it does.” He led her onwards, back out of the Chantry, and towards his cabin, path achingly familiar, even when she had tried so hard not to follow it, not to bother him or push or let her desires run away with her. Why was it so strange to be walking it with him now?

“You were never going to wake up. How could you? A mortal sent physically through The Fade. I was frustrated, frightened. The spirits I might have consulted had been driven away by the Breach. Although I wished to help, I had no faith in Cassandra, nor she in me. I was ready to flee.” His words soothed the questioning thing in her, and it was easy to just… Walk. Have a conversation. Enjoy the reverberation of his voice and the sense of deja vu.

“Oh yea? Where? The breach was… Kinda big deal.” She said, wiggling her fingers towards the green chasm swirling in the sky.

“Someplace far away. Where I might research a way to repair the Breach before its effects reached me.” She quirked her brow at him in a challenge, and he responded with a smile and a chuckle.

“I never said it was a good plan. I told myself; one more attempt to seal the rifts.” He thrust his hand to the breach as though he was the one who held the anchor, and not the paltry mortal elf at his side. “I tried and failed. No ordinary magic would effect them. I watched the rifts expand and grow, resigned myself to flee, and then…”

A flash, a memory. The moment where all the pieces fell into place, and that insistent thing tugged again, but the pieces wouldn’t quite line up and he was filling this space, filling all of Haven, woodsmoke and leather and his laugh woven into every pine needle, every snowflake. She focused on his face. Haven, her memories of Haven, were a map of her memories with him.

“It seems you hold the key to our salvation. You had sealed it with a gesture. And right then, I felt the whole world change.” He looked at her. Looked at her with the same look she must have had on her face. _You change everything_. Maybe… Maybe it was true for him too.

“Felt the whole world change?” She asked, voice spilling the words before she decided to say them.

“A figure of speech.” He said, trying to pull back from this moment, to not let her in, not drown like she was drowning, surrounded by this place that was saturated, laced with him and her. Right there was where they had joked about griffons. Down that path she had thought of him in a bath, and he had guarded another. There they had broken bread and laughed over cider. Down those stairs and by the lake he had avoided her. All along the front walls they had battled Red Templars.

There he had called her ma’da’len.

“Is that all?’” Her voice was rough, pretending at light.

“You change… Everything.” He looked at her, gaze deep and strong and _honest_ , and everything did change. She reached out, and he didn’t pull back. It was time.

She turned his head to hers, and leaned in, savoring the moment of closeness. She paused, giving him the chance to pull back, to freeze, to change his mind. She wanted to ask, to verify, but her emotions were too loud, too big, and her mouth couldn’t wrap around them. His eyes caught hers, desperate as she felt, and then she closed the distance, pressing her lips to his. They were soft, so soft, and they moulded against hers perfectly. She tried desperately to not be greedy, to not push, or take too much, and managed to pull back, meeting his gaze.

It was molten, ravenous. He shook his head, but he was already reaching, pulling her back by her hips and pressing her whole body against his and there was no doubt of his desires. She moaned into him, and he took the opportunity to part her lips with his tongue, leaving her gasping and clutching at him, unable to support her own weight and thoroughly off balance.

He shifted his grip, sliding one of his thighs between hers and rocking, sending pleasure shooting through her, seeming as though he was going to devour her entirely. He was hard against her thigh, and she could feel his heat unraveling her. She moaned into him and he responded in kind, vibrating their kiss. Her nails dug into his scalp and neck, and she snaked one hand down to grab his ass in return, pressing against him and feeling herself soaking through her smalls.

And then he pulled back, shaking his head and looking distraught, and the whimper that escaped her was entirely involuntary. He took one look at her, gasping and glazed, and kissed her again, something softer and gentler, and far too short before he pulled back again.

“We shouldn’t. It isn’t right. Not even here.” He said, pained look on his face, when all she wanted was _more_.

“Even here?” She asked, dazed and dizzy, swollen tongue struggling to form the words.

“Where did you think we were?” He asked, sorrow turning to mirth.

The pieces lined up, and her eyes widened.

“We’re…Not really in Haven. But how? This… Isn’t real?”

“That’s a matter of debate. Probably best discussed after you… Wake up.” He grinned, and the sheer surprise tore her from her nap faster than she had ever woken before. Fuck, that was… So much more than she had expected. Well. If there had ever been a chance for her to turn away from this path, it was gone with that goddamn smooth tongue of his. Fuck.

She raced down the stairs, not bothering to put shoes on, pausing for just a moment as the memory made her legs shake unexpectedly with raw lust. She made it to the rotunda, the real, non Fade rotunda, ignoring passerby and Varric’s odd look. She threw open the door, striding to meet him, to wrap her arms back around him...

“Sleep well?” He asked, mirth still evident.

“That was… Incredible. I mean, up until the very jarring wake up. How?” Her breathing was hard, and she had no idea how he could have found his composure so quickly. She was sure that she was flushed, and definitely wet. She glanced down, but it seemed he had regained control of himself. Too bad. She tried to force herself away from fantasies of wrapping her lips around him, and onto the more imminent thing, which was how on earth she had walked into his dream in the Fade, and how she had gotten there in the first place.

“I am unsure. It seems that you are quite a proficient dreamer when you do enter The Fade, you found me readily.” He offered, giving her a look she knew as his excitement at a mystery, at new knowledge. It looked remarkably like lust. Though, knowing Solas, they were probably tied up together.

“Huh. Or maybe it was because some part of me expected it to work that way?”

“The Fade often shapes itself around our expectations. Though for you to walk directly into my dream requires a level of skill beyond most of the Dalish.”

“That part actually doesn't surprise me. It's harder to avoid you than find you at this point.”

His ears turned pink, adorably.

“I see. That could, perhaps, make sense of it.”

“I suggest we try again and see if it works. For science.” She grinned at him. Or maybe leered. Probably leered.

He laughed, and it was very difficult not to just drag him upstairs to her quarters right that very moment.

“I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.”

“You say that, but you’re the one who started with tongue.” She said with a sing-song lilt to her tone. She couldn’t help repeating this line, at least, near verbatim.

“I did no such thing.” He defended, amusement in his voice.

“Oh? Does it not count if it’s Fade Tongue?” She couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out of her, and he, sadly, reigned himself back in.

“It has been a long time. And things have always been easier for me in The Fade." He paused, attempting to collect his thoughts. "I’m not certain that this is the best idea. It could lead to trouble.”

“I'm yours. If you want me.” She offered, one of the most honest things she had said to him. He looked at her, emotions warring between what he wanted and what he thought was right.

“There are… considerations.” He managed, strangled expression on his face.

“Take whatever time you need.” She said. And then realized something. Something that wouldn’t wait. “Fenedhis. We have to leave. Now. Pack and we’re riding to Dirthavaren. As fast as we can. I’ll explain on the way. I have to go get the others. Within the hour, I’ll meet you at the stables.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FADE TONGUE WOO


	53. Rush for Wisdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short, sorry! Longer one tomorrow, I promise!

In the end, it was Thenera, Bull, Blackwall, Dorian, and Solas who rode out. A smaller party could ride harder and faster, and they rode light. They needed warriors who could smash the pillars, and a mage for when Solas left afterwards. She didn’t want to subject Cole to seeing another spirit twisted, he would feel enough of the pain from Solas. And she wasn’t certain Cassandra could be counted on to turn away from the demon as readily as Bull and Blackwall. She had told them only that it was important to Solas, and there was a time factor, and they had moved too quickly to ask many questions. After the first hour on horseback, Solas pulled alongside her.

“Thenera. What is about to happen?” He asked. 

“Something bad. I’m so so sorry, I thought there would be more time. I… I’m sorry. Did you ever find out about the Avvar and spirits memories?”

“Yes. It is a tenuous thing, not guaranteed to work. Is something about to happen to Cole?”

“No. Not Cole. Wisdom.” She watched as his stomach plummeted, and his face twisted.

“We need to push harder.” He stated.

“I’ll take your lead on this, but if we push much harder we might wind up on foot for the last leg of the journey, and it could cost more.” She said. Oh, if only there were enough bog unicorns for all, or she could have been certain that her and Solas alone were strong enough, they could have ridden through the night.

“How much time do we have?” He asked.

“I’m not sure, a few days at most I think.” 

He took the lead then, pushing at the very edge of what was safe for their mounts, anxiety clear in every line of his body. He looked more angular than ever; dangerously sharp.

They made camp long after dark, and ate rations while riding instead of wasting precious energy hunting and cooking. Blackwall was kind enough to take care of their mounts, and Solas cast wards before pulling Thenera from the fire she had just started.

“I need to know everything.”

“Of course. There are mages in Dirthavaren who are going to bind her, and pulling her through like that will twist her into a pride demon. I specifically brought Bull and Blackwall so they can help destroy the pillars, and I brought exploding arrows for the same.”

“I do not know that I trust them to not attack her.”

“I’ve done it with them in my dreams. They will follow my lead. And between you and Dorian we’ll be able to keep barriers up so there’s little chance of danger. I hope I’m wrong on the timing on this. I hope beyond hope we can get there before the mages bind her, and kill them before she has to endure that.” She tugged at her braid, fiddling with it. “When would you have seen her next, if I hadn’t insisted we leave immediately? I think you know because you were in mid conversation, but I’m not sure on that, you’ve never actually told me how you knew she had been bound.”

He thought for a moment, mulling over the question.

“It would not be strictly necessary to be with her to hear her call in the Fade. However, it was likely I would have sought her out this evening, were we still at Skyhold. Can we save her, if we cannot get there in time?” 

She shook her head, heart plummeting with his expression.

“I’ve never seen it happen that we can. Maybe, since I know, we can change it... Maybe we can get there in time. If not… She will become her true self long enough to say goodbye.” She gave him. It wasn’t enough.

“I must get to the Fade and discuss with her. We will leave at first light.” He said, eyes grey and stormy.

“Yes of course Solas. Dareth Shiral.” He just returned a strangled look, and made for his bedroll.


	54. Tea

She woke before Solas in the freezing air of predawn, her anxiety pulling her from sleep after just a few hours. She packed quietly and started a pot of tea over the embers of the fire, anxiety making her fret with her hands as she waited, trying not to wake him from whatever he was discussing with Wisdom. So it hadn’t happened yet. Not yet. Maybe there would be time. Maybe they could save her. 

They had made it somewhere just before Emprise du Lion in their mad flight from the previous afternoon, the downhill incline lending them speed they wouldn’t be able to match on the return. But they didn’t need to on the return. At this pace, they would arrive just outside Dirthavaren by this evening, now that they were out of the mountain passes. She pulled from the bag of oats and fed the horses a hearty meal so they would be better equipped to carry them for this, rubbing them down as they ate.

Her breath caught in the unnatural cold that had made its way here, and she wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, willing them to stop picking at things and warmth to stay in her body as she sunk further into her scarf.

The other tent began stirring, and it wasn’t long before Bull, Blackwall, and Dorian joined her by the fire after breaking down their tent and refitting their mounts. A faint pale line had begun to throw relief onto the range of the Frostbacks behind them, and they would need to leave soon. She cast a worried look to Solas’ tent, but she didn’t dare disturb him

“Alright Boss, what’s the deal.” Bull asked as he settled down with a piece of hardtack, breaking off a chunk to hand each of them.

“It’s a good thing I trust you, minx, I wouldn’t have followed just anybody out into the wilderness like this.” Dorian sniffed, pouring himself a mug of tea, balancing the waybread on his knee. The others followed his lead.

“And that’s why you’d make a terrible soldier.” Blackwall said to Dorian while pouring.

“That I would.” Dorian responded, utterly unconcerned that Blackwall meant it as an insult, then turned to Thenera. “So? Care to fill us in?”

“There are mages in Dirthavaren attempting to bind one of Solas’ friends.” She offered carefully.

“Solas has friends?” Bull asked, earning a chagrined look.

“Bind? You don’t mean…” Dorian said, putting her words together. 

“Yes. I do. His friend is a spirit of Wisdom. We’re going to help her.” She said resolutely.

“Her? Not ‘It?’” Dorian puzzled. 

“I think so, yes.” She said. It would be too hard to explain that though Solas himself would say it, Cole would specifically say her later, pulling the words Solas needed. Thenera herself probably would have chosen ‘they’ if it weren’t for Cole’s words. 

“Help a demon?” Bull grumbled.

“Yes Bull. She isn’t a demon, but there’s a chance that pulling her through against her will will twist her into one. Our goal is to break the bindings, and free her without hurting her or letting her kill any of us. If you don’t think you’re up for the challenge, you know which way Skyhold is.”

She stated it without heat, and knew he could see the sincerity of her words. He considered for a moment.

“You really care about Solas, don’t you?” He asked, voice softer than his usual gruff tone.

“I do.” She said simply. “Though I would do the same for any of you.”

“Alright. I’m in. Sounds like a challenge, and you’ll need my hammer.” He rolled his shoulders and grinned.

“I bet all the girls love when you say that.” She quipped, offering him a small smile and nodded thanks.

“Guys too.” Bull winked, and she glanced to see Dorian make a strangled face. Good.

She heard a sound, and she turned to see Solas standing outside their tent, clearly having listened to most of the conversation. 

She met his gaze, and it was stormy, mouth set in a line. He met her questioning look with a grim nod. Oh no.

It was too late.

“I made tea.” She passed him a mug, voice catching, and he accepted, grimacing as he took a drink.

“Don't like it? It seems well enough to me.” Blackwall said. 

“It is tea. I detest the stuff.” He made a sour face and drained the cup. “We should leave.”

“I’m packed and ready.” Thenera said, tamping down on the urge to add an endearment to the end, or apologize profusely. Neither would help. He nodded crisply, a miserable look on his face, and they broke down camp and set out for the day.


	55. Wisdom and Pride

“Solas knows more than you.” She said to the mages, as scathingly as she could manage. It was too late. Their options were gone, but she could at least do this. 

“Listen to me! I was one of the foremost experts in the Kirkwall Circle-”

“Shut. Up.” Solas enunciated, deadly and terrifying and strangely hot. “You summoned it to protect you from the bandits.”

“I… Yes.” The neckbeard mage answered reluctantly.

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.” He turned to their group, pain and determination in his eyes. “The summoning circle. We break it, we break the binding. No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature. No demon.”

“What?” The Kirkwall dumbass started.

“I believe my friend said shut up.” Thenera held up a hand to the mage who would be dying soon, and turned to their group. “Guys got the plan? Good. Let’s do this.”

They nodded, Bull hefting his hammer and twisting it in anticipation, Blackwall wary behind his shield, and Dorian watching with uncommon solemnity. Solas was white knuckled and tight lipped as he cast the first barrier around them, wasting no time.

Thenera loosed an exploding arrow into the first pillar, not breaking it but cracking it nicely, and Blackwall rushed it as Bull headed to the next one. 

Blackwall’s shield smashed the first to pieces, and he rushed to the next one as Once-Wisdom let out a roar, snapping out with a crackling whip, hitting Blackwall’s armor, and Thenera loosed another exploding arrow into the third pillar.

Solas drew his friend’s attention, with few options for destroying the stone, and Dorian stood back, ready to cast a barrier the moment Solas’ dropped around him, and placed walls of fire carefully between the warriors and Wisdom.

Thenera was concentrating so hard on the rhythm, she was caught completely unprepared when the whip wrapped around her leg, between barriers, lighting her world on fire and pulling her to the ground, hard. She bit down on a scream as Not-Pride laughed, breath wrenched from her lungs as her back smashed against rocks.

A barrier wrapped around her from Dorian, and she struggled back her feet, wheezing, and downed a potion. There were two pillars left, but the others had hesitated at her injury, ready to turn on Wisdom, save Solas, who was desperately trying to draw her attention back to him, and then spinning or Fade-stepping away before calling her to his position again.

“Back to it!” She yelled, drawing another exploding arrow and loosing it, shattering the second to last one. 

Renewed, Bull and Blackwall surged against the final one, and it gave way in a great crack, releasing Solas’ friend from her confines. Wisps of smoke flew away from the form of the Pride demon, leaving Wisdom, small and vulnerable, in its place. Her form collapsed on one of the stones, blue and vaguely feminine that glowed with Fade green eyes, pieces flickering and wafting away on some nonexistant breeze. Solas came to crouch beside her, tortured expression on his face as the others backed up to give them space.

“Lethallin… Ir Abelas.” he told her, pain clear.

“Tel abelas. Enasal. Ir’tel’im. Ma melava halani. Mala suledin nadas. Ma ghilani mir din’an.” She spoke, sadness tinging the broken words.

“Ma nuvenin.” Solas replied, voice catching on the words. He moved his hands, pulling and releasing, and she unraveled into wisps of smoke. “Dareth shiral.”

Thenera placed her hand on his shoulder.

“Ir abelas, lethallin.” She offered softly. It wasn’t enough. Of all the things she wished she could change… But it had been too little too late. 

“Now… I must endure.” He said, pain cracking his words.

“I know. I’m here if you need to be squishy. Please let me know if I can help.” She said. 

He offered her the tiniest of smiles, with far too much sadness beneath.

“You already have.” He said softly, before his gaze hardened, and he looked past her. “Now all that remains is them.”

“Thank you. We would not have risked-” The dead man walking said. 

“Did I say you could speak?” She cut them short, tone transforming to something deadly, and turned to Solas and nodded. His mouth set in a grim line.

“You… Tortured and killed my friend.” He advanced on them and they remained quiet, terrified. Good. She didn’t stop him as he charred them to oblivion with a simple gesture, as he had the assassin back in Redcliffe. She didn’t want to. And she certainly wasn’t naive enough to expect that stopping him now would actually stop him from killing them later.

“Damn them all.” He said venomously, looking at the scorched earth and nothing else. “I need some time alone. I will meet you back at Skyhold.” 

He didn’t turn back around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Elvhen conversation Solas and Wisdom have:
> 
> Solas: I'm sorry  
> Spirit: I'm not. I'm happy. I'm me again  
> Spirit: You helped me. Now you must endure. Guide me into death.  
> Solas: As you say.
> 
> So I definitely have headcanoned that Solas, even if you stop him, finds and kills the mages later. Because that just tracks with who he is. 
> 
> Also. My soul hurts. Ow.


	56. Dirthavaren

They stayed in Dirthavaren for 5 days all told. It was horrific to see what the Exalted March had done to this land, and her people, and civil war had exacerbated. The once beautiful land was scarred and scorched, fresh wounds clear around every bend and behind every rock outcropping.

The veil itched and tingled on her skin, something she never noticed before the anchor, and everywhere, there were statutes of Fen'Harel. That was comforting at least. She trailed her fingers over each one of them, hoping Solas was alright, and feeling his absence keenly. 

It was the first time she had traveled without him since the Conclave. 

They made their way to the Dalish Camp on the second day, and she rejoiced to see unfamiliar faces etched in familiar lines, despite the knowledge that marred the Vallaslin now. 

“Aneth ara, Da’len.” Keeper Hawen greeted, kind but wary.

“Aneth ara, hahren.” She offered, gritting her teeth slightly at the diminutive. She could have called him lethallin and reminded him that in her own way, she was now the keeper of a clan, but it would be pointless, she was a shem leader now, and it could only lead away from their goals. “Tell me what ails our people here.” 

He did, and they set out for the day. 

“Not like that Keeper guy? Do you know him?” Bull asked as they rode towards the grave site.

“No Bull. I'm just not a fan of people seeing me as their lesser.” She explained. Bull gave her a look, waiting for more information. “Da'len means little one, and it irritates me.”

“Doesn't when Solas says it. But he doesn't mean it like that, does he.” 

“No, he doesn't. He also doesn’t use it in mixed company, at least not anymore. Fricken spies.” She shot him a chagrined look, and Bull just shrugged. “Ok, I’m gonna teach you something in Elvhen. One of my favorite phrases. I think you might enjoy it. Ir abelas banal. It means ‘I regret nothing.’”

“I like that Boss! Ear ab alas bahnawl.” He tried, butchering it.

“Ir. Abelas. Banal.” She repeated, and they went back and forth a few times until he had it at least mostly right. 

“That does sound like something you’d say.” Dorian said. “Though we’ve been through some rather regrettable things.”

“Ugh. True story.” She said, inclining her head. 

They made their way to Var Bellanaris, tying their mounts and killing the demons that plagued the area before corralling the golden halla back to camp. They spent all day running errands and gathering supplies for the Dalish, and as the sun fell low, the camp invited them in for dinner.

Thenera offered to hunt with them, but they wanted to extend hospitality, and she let them. They roast one of the strange boar like creatures that lived in the area, serving it with flatbread and root vegetables cooked among the coals in heavy iron skillets. 

As the meal finished cooking, the children began to gather around the fire, bringing stashes of berries and herbs from their wanderings through the day. A few seemed frightened of Bull, but most simply seemed curious. He put them at ease by telling silly stories, including the feathered caper that left them hanging off his words and giggling. 

A small girl sat on Thenera's lap and asked about her mark, and told her of the Vallaslin she would wear someday in the bubbling way only children can. Her name was Anise, with bright red hair and freckles smattered across sun kissed skin. She asked if she could play with Thenera’s now breastbone length silver hair, and she had no choice but accept. She talked as she worked, managing minimal pulling as she worked flowers into messy braids, and Thenera smiled, heart aching for things that weren’t meant to be.

“Can I tell you a secret, Anise?” She looked up with wide eyes and nodded with as much solemnity as her round face could muster. “This mark? It’s from one of our gods.”

“But there aren’t any of our gods left!” She whispered loudly. “Fen’Harel locked them all away!”

“That he did. But this piece of their power was stolen, and found by a scary shem, who’s pretending it’s from their god. But it’s not. It’s ours.” Thenera put her finger to her lips, to keep the secret. 

“Aren’t all the shems scary?” She asked.

“No, but you should certainly be careful, Anise. There are many who are wonderful, like my friends here, but there are also lots of mean ones. Someday, I hope we won’t have to fear them.”

“That would be nice. Mamae has nightmares sometimes.” The little one said, and ran off to collect more flowers for Thenera’s hair.

Dorian dazzled as only he could with flamboyant displays of his fire magic to an enraptured audience, kindly not discussing the elves of his homeland; or, for that matter, his homeland at all. Blackwall watched, and saw one of the craftspeople working at carving, and found his way to him to discuss the craft.

Hawen continued to call her da’len, though everyone else had taken to calling her lethallan, and she honored his authority in this space by calling him hahren, though it continued to annoy her. Deshanna had gotten used to this quirk of hers, though they had also earned her respect thoroughly through the years, and Thenera, in turn, called no one da’len without their permission.

As they finished eating, they made a show of allowing Loranil to join the Inquisition, and there was much cheering and some passed berry wine rationed carefully.

The night wound to a close, and Thenera pulled Hawen aside.

“Hahren. I hoped I might help your clan in more than we have accomplished today.” She said, pushing a purse into his hands. “This should be enough to ease things, but not so much to paint a target on your backs to the shem.”

“Da’len, we can get by. This is not necessary.” He replied, attempting to refuse.

“I took it from shems who have worked to destroy the land. You need to repair your aravels, and I’m sure some bags of grain wouldn’t go amiss. There are many da’len here to care for, and I want to do what I can for the People. I took Mythal’s marks for a reason. Please allow me to help protect and soothe in the ways I’m able.”

“Very well. We will see this is put to good use. Thank you, da’len.” He pocketed the money, and nodded. She returned the gesture, and they made their way back to camp.

The next several days would be full of undead, and she would enjoy this night of kinship to the fullest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It drives me a little crazy that you can't do all that much to help various groups, especially since it's unbelievably easy in game to wind up wealthy. So. Had to.


	57. Stirrings in the Void

They made it back to Skyhold without too much issue, and was nearly surprised to see that Solas hadn’t arrived yet. They had been gone nearly two weeks total, a week and a half since losing Wisdom. A surge of worry spiked.

“Inquisitor. I am glad to see you have returned.” Josephine greeted near the front gates. “We have gotten reports from our people in the Exalted Plains, it seems you made quite good use of your time there.”

“Thank you, Josie.” She said with a smile as she handed the reigns of her horse to one of the hands, nodding her thanks.

“I shall endeavor to have a bath drawn for you, you must be quite exhausted after the long ride. We have much to discuss after you have had the chance to wash up. Let us know when you are ready, and we will meet in the war room.”

“Yes please. We’ve also returned with a new agent, Loranil from Clan Rajmahel. And can you please grab me the moment our scouts see Solas approach?”

“Oh! Yes. We will see to our new agent immediately. Where is Solas? Was he not with your group?” She started, glancing around their group. Blackwall caught her gaze, and she could swear he turned pink, and she smiled in return.

“He needed some time to himself. He lost a close friend.” She answered quietly.

“I am very sorry to hear that.” She turned back with a sympathetic look. “I will have someone sent to you at once.” 

“Thank you. You are wonderful, Josephine.” She said, and the ambassador’s smile lit up the courtyard. 

She took her bath with the doors to the balcony open, not wanting to feel so confined. It was definitely getting easier now, very nearly relaxing again, though she suspected it would be a very long time until she stopped keeping her dagger within reach. She decided she was ready to try some exposure therapy, and dabbed on a bit of rose oil after getting out of the water, unwilling to mix them just yet. 

A dead asshole wouldn’t take her favorite flower from her.

As she was drying off, she heard a polite knocking, and called the scout up.

“Inquisitor, we’ve just caught sight of Solas returning on horseback. He should be at the gate within the hour.” She said crisply, trained too well to react to Thenera in a towel and naught else.

“Thank you.” She smiled at the scout, and she returned a precise bow and made her way back down the stairs. 

She dressed in her ridiculous Inquisitor garb that Josephine had made while they had been in Dirthavaren, and made her way to the front doors, standing on the platform until he came into view. He caught her gaze, hurt and hollow, and she made her way down to greet him as one of the stablehands met him at the portcullis, and he dismounted.

“Inquisitor.” He greeted.

“How are you doing?” She asked.

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.” He said, pain clear in his eyes.

“Thank you... for coming back. I was worried.” She said hesitantly. She wanted to reach out, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome that right now.

“Have I ever not? In your dreams, I mean.” He asked, curious even now.

“No. But I’ve never known in advance and still not been able to help.” She said helplessly. 

“You did help. You did more than most would have, knowledge or no. You were a true friend. I could hardly abandon you now.” He offered some terrible approximation of a smile.

“Where did you go?” She asked quietly.

“I found a quiet spot and went to sleep. I visited the place in The Fade where my friend used to be. It’s empty, but there are stirrings of energy in the Void. Someday, I hope she may return there. I spent several days in rituals, much like the Avvar, to see if her memories can be restored with time.” 

“Do you think they will?” She asked, too afraid to hope but wanting to.

“Something similar may reform one day, but it might have a different personality. It is questionable if she will remember me. It would not be the friend I knew”

“Ir abelas, Solas. Please. My offer from before still stands. If you need to be squishy, I’m here. And as far as I’m concerned, my quarters should be yours. You’re welcome anytime day or night.” 

“It has been so long since I could trust someone.” His voice cracked on the words, and he pulled his control tighter.

“I know.” She offered helplessly.

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.” He said, and he left for the rotunda before she could press.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The clan in the dales never got a name in canon so I gave them one! Thank you FenXShiral!
> 
> Rajmahel - leader in the far and ahead greens.
> 
> Also. I find it very interesting that this is one of (the??) only time we hear Solas mention The Void? But he does it so casually... Like everyone should know what the Void is.


	58. Ma Falon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER MAKES 100K WORDS IN THIS SERIES OMG.
> 
> This is now 10x longer than anything I've previously written. 
> 
> And we're still like... Not even halfway? I think? I'm not actually sure.
> 
> Also-new elvhen phrase in this chapter, made with FenXShiral's amazing work.
> 
> Ir Abelasis- I am infinitely sorry.

She finally climbed into bed for the evening, after hours of meetings and an evening trying not to crowd, and yet be available for Solas. It was exhausting. She had eaten with Varric and caught up, with a lot of “Oh shits” and “That’s weird” which she had agreed with, and finally retired to her quarters and read up on Orlesian customs until her eyes began to drift shut.

She pulled the covers over her and settled in, drifting halfway to sleep when a sound startled her, forcing her nearly to her feet with the jolt of adrenaline.

“Ir abelas, lethallin. I should have made more noise, or possibly less.” Solas said, standing at the top of the stairs, pain and uncertainty on his face. “I should not have come. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

“No!” She blurted. She wanted to go to him, wanted to reach out and offer comfort, but she was afraid the motion would startle him, and he would draw back like so many times before. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Please. It’s ok for you to be here.” 

His face twisted, and she stood, padding over to him silently, stopping at the distance he generally liked to keep between them.

“You’re certain?” He asked, and her heart broke. She nodded and stepped forward, reaching out for him, and he put his arms around her like he was drowning, sinking against her.

“She was my oldest friend.” He mumbled against her hair.

“Ir abelasis.” She replied, voice cracking on the words.

He made a choking sound, and wet droplets hit her scalp, weight against her increasing as he sagged. She led him to her bed, feet dragging, and his knees gave as they approached the edge, collapsing from under him, leaving him sitting.

“She believed in me when no one did, was there through so much. I have known her since I was young. Through every mistake and every joy, and now she’s just… Gone. And I must endure. I can never restore her to what she should be. I can never… I thought there would be more time. I always think there will be more time, until there… Isn’t.” He was babbling, head resting in his hands, shoulders bunched in agony. She sat behind him, hands wrapping around his torso and squeezing reassuringly.

“I won’t tell you it’s alright, because it’s not. I’m sorry.” She murmured against his back.

“Why didn’t you tell me this would happen sooner?” He asked miserably, trying not to accuse, only to know. She was grateful. She was accusing herself enough.

“I didn’t know when it would happen for certain. I knew sometime after we arrived at Skyhold, but the timing has varied beyond that. I didn’t want you to carry the burden of knowing enough to suffer and not enough to plan or do anything about it. I tried, tried to send you the right direction to save her without laying the burden on your shoulders. I’m so sorry. I should have told you… And now? I’m so sorry.” She said in a rush.

“Was it like Haven? A necessary concession to ensure victory?” He asked.

She began pulling back, in case her touch was unwelcome, but he grabbed her wrists, holding her to him.

“Please. I don’t want to lose anything else right now.” He said, voice ragged.

“No Solas. There are three things I want to change. Her fate was one of them. I’m not going anywhere. I just… Want to make sure I’m not pushing myself on you. I want to make sure you feel safe with me.” She leaned her head back on his shoulder, and moved so her legs were straddling either side of him.

“You should not feel safe with me.” He said, clutching her tighter.

“Neither of us are precisely safe people, Falon. You’ve proved to be the safest person for me to be around. You may hurt me someday, but you’ll never want to.” She put her hands over his heart and pulled him as close as she could.

“You’re so certain?” He said, dropping his hands to his lap and letting his head fall back, the back of his skull tapping the top of Thenera’s head.

“Yes. Absolutely. You are many things, Solas. Proud and stubborn and occasionally misinformed, but you’re also wise and kind and dutiful. You search out knowledge and delight at being shown new things. You will always do what you believe is right, no matter the cost, and you are willing to carry the burden. I don’t know all your secrets, but believe that I see you and find you worthy.” 

He choked on a sob, head falling forward again.

“I do not deserve you, as I did not deserve her.” 

“This was not your fault. And you killed the ones whose fault it is. If there’s any blame left, it’s mine, not yours. Take it out on me if you need to.” She offered.

“I will do no such thing.” He said, aghast, and a flutter of relief and pang of guilt hit simultaneously. 

“Ok. It’s ok to hurt, ma….” Her throat contracted over what she wanted to say. “Falon.” 

His breath caught, but he ignored the slip. 

“And hurt it does, falon.” He said, tears spent and sagging again. 

She coaxed him to lay down, curling around him, and ran her fingers across his scalp softly to soothe him. His gaze was hollow, and she sung him the lullaby he had sung to her in Redcliffe nearly a month ago. His eyes drifted shut.

“Please continue? I have no wish to visit the Fade tonight. Perhaps with you guiding me, I can simply dream.”

“Of course.” She replied. She sang every song she knew in Elvhen, and then a few in common, from both worlds, and finally, as he began to drift off, she sang him a few songs in Japanese that she knew from her other life.

Finally, his breathing evened and she drifted into sleep with her hand pressed over his heart.


	59. Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like updates are going to be a little slower from here out, probably a couple chapters a week? My health has been a crazy yo-yo of awful and attempting to not drown in work at the same time is... Rough. So! Enjoy and lmk how you like this one!

She woke alone in her bed. Which… Wasn’t exactly surprising. What was surprising was that Solas was sitting at her desk, reading one of the books she’d collected on Orlais. 

“Morning. Sorry. I meant to wake up before you.” She said blearily.

“It is alright. I didn’t sleep much. What did you dream?” He asked. There were circles under his eyes, and none of the mirth that usually showed when she was caught off guard.

“Hmm? Oh. Got a massage, that was nice.” She yawned, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Are you saying you get a massage in the future?” 

“Well I hope. But no, it wasn’t a future dream.” She got out of bed, and went to the washbasin to brush her teeth. 

“Was it in the Fade?” He pressed.

“I don’t think so.” She replied. She still hadn’t decided if she would ever tell him about her other life. Maybe. But not until a whole lot of other secrets came to light. 

“Every point where I feel I’ve begun to unravel your mystery, I find more layers beneath.” He took her in, tilting his head at the puzzle.

“At least it keeps me interesting?” She asked, brushing her hair carefully.

“I hardly see you struggling with such a thing.” He closed the book and watched her, a thoughtful expression on his face. She shot him a small smile and rummaged in the dresser, upsetting the neat folding that had been inevitable, then went into the side room to throw on a pair of breeches and a tunic suitable for more work around Skyhold. Soon, they would leave for Crestwood, but until then, she would help repair efforts. She came back out and crossed to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m glad you came last night.”

“What was it you said? ‘Even you need to put it down sometimes.’” He said, standing, and wandered out onto the balcony. She followed him. “What were you like, before the anchor?”

Oh. Oh this. This already. She looked down at it, pulsing and glowing softly, and swallowed. Good thing she had brushed her teeth. Too bad she was wearing her rattiest tunic, the one that still had elfroot stains on it from potion making.

“Has it affected you? Changed you in any way? Your mind, your morals, your… Spirit?” He asked, fixing her with one of his intense looks.

“Umm. It’s changed the clarity of my dreams, but I don’t think it’s changed who I am. It didn’t come with special perv powers or anything.” She waggled her eyebrows dramatically at him and smirked.

He chuckled nervously, which was unfair in so many ways.

“That’s an excellent point. But that is not all. You show a wisdom I have not seen since…” He paused, and the rest came out in a rush. “Since my deepest journeys into the ancient memories of the Fade. You are not what I expected”

“What did you expect?” She asked honestly.

“Not you. You have shown subtlety in your actions, a wisdom that goes against everything I expected. If the Dalish could raise someone with a spirit like yours… Have I misjudged them? Or have your dreams set you apart, made you more?”

“That’s… Not the most simple answer. Your own experiences with them are truth, but there’s more you haven’t seen. They long for an idealized past where we weren’t subjugated and seen as lesser. There’s beauty there, and sadness too. Some Dalish do terrible things, and others wonderful. I can’t imagine that’s too much different than anywhere else.” She said, attempting to sift through her own thoughts on the matter. “I have always been different, and apart. I have never quite fit in with the clans, never quite did what they expected of me. I suspect it would have been the same anywhere. But I also found something much like a home, and love in many forms.” 

“Love?” He asked, underlying question obvious.

“Yes. Friendships full of it. And other kinds that have been lost.” She answered, shrugging a little.

“I see. Yes. Perhaps that is it. I suppose it must be. Most people act with so little understanding of the world. But not you.” He said earnestly.

“I try.” She replied.

“You succeed.” He said, usually stormy eyes clear as they met hers. He paused, clearly wanting to say something. His voice dropped. “I have not forgotten the kiss.”

“Fenedhis how could you? It was... “ She let out a shaky breath with a smile, pulling closer to him. “Incredible.”

He laughed uncomfortably, shaking his head like he had in the Fade, and began pulling away, to leave.

“Please don’t go.” She said, reaching out a hand to stop him. 

“It would be kinder in the long run.” He looked back, tortured expression in his eyes. “But losing you would…”

He turned and strode back, pulling Thenera to him by her waist, lips meeting in a touch that was desperately, achingly sweet. He was warm in the cool mountain air, his lips soft and full and yielding. She melted against him, rising on tiptoes, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him as close as possible, trusting him to hold her balanced. She parted her lips and licked his along the seam, and he followed suit with a groan, pressing his tongue against hers, tasting, fevered and burning. She bundled one hand in the collar of his tunic as the other one wrapped around his neck, and his hands clutched against her back, pulling and sinking into pliant flesh and less pliant muscle. 

Far too soon, it was over, and he began pulling away. 

“Ar lath, ma Vhenan.” He said, as though he had been holding in the words for far too long. He turned to leave, to escape the moment and what could happen if they stayed in private quarters with emotions so high and control so low, but Thenera still had a vise grip on his collar.

“Wait, Vhenan.” She said, stumbling over her swollen tongue and the word she had thought so much but said so little. He paused, and turned with one of the most beautiful smiles she had ever seen. “Ar lath ma. But I need to ask you something.”

“Will you release my collar if I agree to your interrogation? Because I must say, your tactics are already quite persuasive, my heart.” Well. This was how she died. RIP Thenera. 

“That was an excellent attempt to completely throw me from my goals by making me melt.” She managed.

“Did it work?” His eyes crinkled in mirth. Unfair.

“Nearly.” She grinned, just for a moment before her look became more contemplative. She released his collar and took a steadying breath. “Would you feel this way if I wasn’t a puzzle?”

He looked as though she had struck him. 

“I wish I could tell you with complete certainty.” His brows furrowed as he thought. “I do believe so, however. I would have been drawn to you regardless, that I am certain of. Your poise and grace, your wit, your thoughtfulness. Your rare anger and the way you blaze. And with all your knowledge, curiosity shines bright within you. The more I know you the more drawn I am to you. It was not your dreams that offered to stand between Cassandra and I that day in Haven, or happened to find the same spot to attempt avoiding each other by the lake. It was not your dreams that offered me safe harbor during grief. It is you. You are enough, Thenera, ma Vhenan.”

He pulled her into an embrace, and she closed her eyes against his words, breathing him in and savoring this moment. Savoring while it lasted.

“Ar lath ma Vhenan.” She murmured against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thenera grabbing Solas' collar while he tries to escape just looks so comical in my brain. 100% would do.


	60. Withdrawls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... This chapter is very personal to me. Sorry it has very little Solas, but I needed to. <3

“Cullen? You wanted to see me?” Shit. Shit shit shit shit. He was bowed over his desk, with a familiar box sitting open on his table. Along with the statue of Mythal. He had brought it from Haven, and she wasn’t sure if it that was a good or bad thing.

“As leader of the Inquisition, you… There’s something I need to tell you.” He struggled.

“Say whatever you need.” She answered, softening her voice as much as she could.

“Right. Thank you. Lyrium grants Templars our abilities, but it controls us as well. Those cut off suffer… Some go mad, others die.” He hesitated, clearly worried. “We have secured a reliable source of lyrium for the Templars here. But I… No longer take it.”

“Ok. I support you.” She said simply.

“Thank you. After what happened in Kirkwall, I couldn’t… I will not be bound to the Order, or that life, any longer. Whatever the suffering. I accept it. But I would not put the Inquisition at risk. I’ve asked Cassandra to…. Watch me. If my ability to lead is compromised, I will be relieved from duty.” He was struggling, but she knew it would never come to that.

“That won’t be necessary Cullen. You can absolutely do this. And I’m going to help in whatever ways I can. How bad is it?” She asked, trying to be the steady rock he needed.

“I can endure it. Thank you, Inquisitor. The Inquisition’s army must always take priority. Should anything happen… I will defer to Cassandra’s judgement.” He sounded exhausted. It must be bad indeed right now.

“Won’t be necessary. You are stronger than this, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. Are you in the worst of it now?” She asked, realizing as she asked that there was no way for him to know.

“Maker, I hope so.” He prayed.

“Ok. Give me an hour, and I’ll be back.” She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“That’s hardly necessary, Inquisitor, I’m sure you have duties to attend to.” He said, attempting to stand straighter, to prove he didn’t need the help.

“This is the most important duty I could have tonight. I’ll be back in an hour. We leave for Crestwood in a couple days, but I can do this now. If you can, put on some pajamas. You don’t have to wear armor all the time.” She told him, choosing to ignore that she should take her own damn advice more often.

She let herself out and headed to the library.

“Vhenan.” Solas greeted, smiling, as she entered the door from the ramparts, and she grinned, despite herself. He had been studying the wall, planning the next mural, pigments and a bucket for plaster laid out nearby.

He had finished the first one the night after their conversation on the balcony. They seemed to almost appear magically, painted in a frenzy of passion after careful planning. Or maybe he was avoiding sleep since Wisdom. She hoped, one of these days, she would be able to watch him work, though she also knew just how awkward that could feel.

“Vhenan. I’m sorry I can’t stay right now, someone needs me.” She said before turning up the stairs, and he gave her a quizzical look and nodded.

“Our fearless leader! Have you come to share a glass with me? This red isn’t half bad.” Dorian greeted from his study, swirling a glass of wine as he looked up from his reading.

“Sorry Dorian, afraid I have plans tonight! I’ll just be grabbing…” She ran her fingers across the tomes, looking for the one she had seen and squealed over when it arrived. She found it and pulled it from the shelf, heavy with worn red binding. “This one, and leaving!”

“Well I do rather like watching you leave.” He winked. “I didn’t know you liked fairy tales!”

“I love them! They’re the best stories. This one includes some of the Elven tales from my childhood.” She smiled at him.

“I bet your special apostate friend just loves those.” He waggled his brows dramatically at her, and she plucked his wineglass from his hand and took a drink before handing it back. He tutted at her.

“Oh I bet.” She blew Dorian a kiss, and made her way back down the stairs.

“What is so vital this evening, Thenera? And fairy tales?” Solas inquired. His hearing was way too good for her to have expected him not to hear that exchange, but she didn’t mind. She walked to him, so that the parts of their conversation that she didn’t want overheard would stay between them.

“I would actually love your thoughts on these, and very much want to have a long conversation about them,” She lowered her voice, so anyone above would think she was saying something inappropriate, “but my secrets aren’t my own tonight. I plan to sleep in my quarters, but it’ll be late. I’ll give you the answers I can there if you’d like.”

“Very well, my heart. Perhaps I will see you there.” He said, voice pitched low to match hers, which did entirely unfair things to her. She wound her fingers through his and leaned against his chin. He kissed her forehead gently, and she detangled herself before she could get _distracted_.

“Though I’ll be back through in a few minutes, after I run to the kitchens. I do love how you’re on my path just about everywhere…” She grinned again and made her way downstairs.

One of the servants, an elven woman named Elari, helped her prepare a basket of broth, water, bread, and a small hunk of cheese, and she made her way back. Solas gave her a puzzled look as she headed back across the ramparts instead of the main hall, with her basket and book, and she gave him a shrug in response, mouthing the word ‘later’ to him.

She made it to Cullen’s door, and opened it to find him shaking, which he tried to rein in as she entered.

“Cullen, you don’t have to pretend you’re ok right now.”

He swallowed and nodded. He had taken off his armor, as she had recommended, and he looked… Strange without his fur mantle. Smaller. The circles under his eyes were dark, and a sheen of sweat coated his skin.

“Can you eat right now?” She asked.

“It has been difficult.” He admitted.

“Ok. Can you make it up the ladder? Down here doesn’t exactly seem like the most… comfortable of places.”

“Currently, Inquisitor, nothing is particularly comfortable.” He grimaced. Right. “I believe I can, but I have been hesitant to try these past several nights. I have mostly been sleeping on the floor. There is a bedroll I have been storing under my desk, should the need arise.”

She nodded, and pulled it out from its hiding place, somewhere none would notice something so incongruous. She unrolled it and placed it next to one of the walls, then unpacked the basket.

“Come sit with me. Your body needs rest while it processes out of your system. Eat, if you can.” She sat on the floor, and he hesitantly followed, and sat across from her. She poured some broth into the mugs she had brought, and handed one to him. He took it, fingers trembling, and sipped. His eyes closed, nausea flickering across his face before he managed another sip.

“Take your time. It doesn’t do you any good if it doesn’t stay down, and I really don’t handle vomit well.” Thenera said, attempting a lopsided smile as she sipped her own, and sliced cheese to eat as well.

“It seems to be helping.” He took another tentative sip. “Though I will attempt to not vomit for your sake.”

“I appreciate it, Commander.” She took a bite of bread.

“I am the one who…” He looked away, ashamed. “You should not need to devote your attention to this.”

“Cullen. This is something I could not _not_ do, and still be me. This also isn’t the first time I’ve done this.”

“I… See. May I ask who?” He asked, taking another sip, concentration becoming strained.

“My brother. You’re much better off than he was at the point he realized he needed to stop.”

“I was unaware you had siblings.” He said. His mental faculties were beginning to break down, threads being pulled by the pain that wracked him.

“Just the one. He made it through, and he’s happily bonded now.” She offered him a hopeful smile. “You will get through this. Do you think you can manage a little bread if we dip it in the broth?”

“Not presently.” He said. He took one more sip and set the mug down, still half full, hands trembling. “I fear I’m not very good company.”

“I didn’t expect you to be. If you’re done with that for now, lay down.” She moved, helping him lay in the bedroll, and she sat, back against the wall, next to his head.

“This is embarrassing.” He said, shaking getting worse with the late hour.

“No. You made a very difficult, very strong decision. And you could deal with it alone, but you don’t have to.” She told him. His eyes glazed as he struggled to follow her words. “I’m going to read to you. You can try to concentrate on the words to keep the pain at bay, or you can let them drift by. I’m going to stay until you fall asleep, ok?”

“Yes, alright.” He answered fitfully. His skin was starting to look feverish, but it didn’t seem too bad yet.

She pulled out the book, and began reading him the stories from her Dalish childhood. First, the story of Elgar’nan, raging against the very sun in the heavens, then of Mythal, born of the ocean and able to soothe her husband’s anger with her touch. She read to him the stories of Mythal protecting her people, of passing judgement on the wicked, of creating the moon to light the sky while the sun was driven away in the night.

She told stories of Andruil, goddess of the hunt, whose propaganda remained strong. Thenera read to him of the way of three trees, of hunts she blessed and of her relationship with Ghilan’nain. She skipped the story of Andruil and Fen’Harel, a twisting feeling settling into her gut at the thought.

As his fever spiked, she dipped a cloth from her basket in water, and set it on his brow, and after a couple hours, Cullen drifted into a listless sleep, twitching and muttering occasionally.

Right. Nightmares. Solas was bound to have something for that. She peeled herself from the stone floor, bits numb and tingling, and made her way back to her quarters.


	61. Lime and Ash

The rotunda smelled of lime and ash and other minerals as she walked back, and Solas stood with sleeves rolled up, brush in one hand and jar of paint in the other as he swept broad strokes across the plaster. She made sure to let her footsteps make noise to keep from startling him, and shut the door behind her. 

“I appreciate the sentiment Vhenan, but it is unnecessary.” He said, not turning to face her, but the corner of his eyes crinkled in a smile.

“Oh right, anchor.” She responded, distracted by the sight in front of her. A couple small splatters of paint littered his beautiful hands, ochre and green and black. Otherwise he was meticulous.

“Indeed.”

“Do you mind if I watch you work? I’ll be quiet.” She asked, hopeful but trying not to push.

“If it were anyone else… I think I would.” He responded.

“I can head to my quarters if I'm a distraction.” She offered, and he chuckled.

“You are always a distraction, my heart. But a welcome one. Stay if you would like.” He offered, barely turning a glance at her before returning to the wall. But the smile on his face turned her knees to jelly, fluttering contentment through her.

She settled on the couch and watched. Each stroke was sure, deliberate. The way he layered colors and textures, beautiful. He worked with the precision and coordination of someone who had spent thousands of hours at their craft, and it was breathtaking to watch him, to see how quickly the wall yielded to his vision. She didn't talk, didn't want to disrupt his concentration. 

After a few minutes, she opened her book to read, looking up every page or so to see his progress. He layered new plaster in batches, ashen lilac under his pigments looking so strange. No wonder they all had such a muted quality to the colors.

She drifted, exhausted, but unwilling to move, unwilling to pull back from this moment that was filling her with warmth, limbs heavy and languid on his couch.

Her Vhenan. Perfect, all sharp angles and surprising softness, sleeves rolled up with his paintbrush in hand. The look of enraptured concentration on his face as beautiful as the work before him. 

She struggled to keep the weight from her eyes, to keep watching him, to stay here, in this moment, but the book was now a heavy weight on her stomach, feeling like a blanket, and she was so tired, so exhausted from the day...

She woke in her bed, sunlight streaming through the leaded glass of the balcony doors, with no memory of how she’d gotten there. She was still in her clothing from the previous night, only her shoes removed. She stretched, and curled to her side.

“Hello.” Solas voice greeted her, quietly, and a smile broke across her face, finding him laying on the couch in front of her, apparently having woken not much earlier.

“Morning.” She yawned, attempting to wake her brain.” Two questions for you. First, how did I get here? And second, did you sleep on the couch? Oh and a third, would it be possible to get some herbs for dreamless sleep?”

“Why would you possibly want such a thing, Thenera? Your dreams have been vital in saving lives thus far, mine included.” He countered immediately, moving to wakefulness in a rush at the suggestion. 

“Oh. Not for me. For Cullen. He’s been having nightmares.” It probably wouldn’t even be possible to change the way she dreamed.

“Is that where you were last night?” He asked.

“Yes. He’s stopped taking Lyrium. He’s going to have nightmares for years to come given his past mixed with the withdrawals.” She explained, lips set in a tight line. 

“I see. I will see what I can do, I should be able to have them prepared before we set out for Crestwood.” He fixed her with a curious look, and stood, striding the short distance between the couch and the bed and came to sit next to her. “As for the others; you fell asleep on my couch; and while it was quite endearing I thought it best not to leave you there. I carried you up, and settled on your couch for the night.”

“You carried me? Up five hundred flights of stairs in the middle of the night?” She exaggerated. But only slightly. So many stairs.

“You are not especially heavy, Vhenan.” He said with a pointed look. It was true that her frame was slight, but there was so much running and lifting and fighting there was no way she was as waif-like as people expected. 

“I'm mostly muscle. I'm not that light. You must be stronger than I thought.” She mused, quirking an eyebrow. ”Why the couch?”

“I thought it wise. I considered returning to my rooms, but after carrying you up five hundred flights of stairs in the middle of the night, I'll admit it was not the most appealing of ideas.” He said wryly. She hoped, that like her, it was just… Better being closer. Even closer than this would be even better.

“You could have shared the bed with me.” She offered.

“You did not stir in your sleep and I would not presume.” He responded. 

“Presume away, on that front.” She smiled at him, moving closer, and he froze.

“I will keep that in mind.” He replied smoothly, and she paused.

“But you won't, will you? Why?”

“That is a complicated question.” He evaded.

“Then give me a complicated answer. And if you can't say the whole reason, that's ok too. Just… I want to be on the same page.”

“Very well. Sleeping next to you is fraught with… Complications. You, your presence, your everything, undermine my self control.” He admitted. 

“Why is that a bad thing? Why not give in?”

“Because I fear, vhenan, we would never leave this room.” He smirked, and the room warmed considerably.

“We could send downstairs for a weeks rations.” She grinned, quirking a brow in challenge.

“But then who would save the world?” He asked. 

“We could take a week off. Coryphetits can wait a little while.” She offered. It was probably even true. 

“Thenera.” He chided, mirth in this eyes dying. “Do you know how this ends? Us?”

“Not for certain. Probably painfully. ...Very probably.” She admitted. She didn’t want to talk about how badly it had hurt, even when it wasn’t real. It was now, and she didn't want to think about how much it would. If it still happened that way.

“And knowing that, you're still here?” He asked, confusion in his gaze.

“Would knowing there was no happy ending stop you? I would rather focus on the happiness we do get.” She asked pointedly. 

“I suppose it wouldn't.” He mused, meeting her eyes with foreboding. 

“Then kiss me please?” 

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead and nose to hers. She brought her hands up, trailing her fingers across his neck and ears, and he shivered. 

“Since you said please.” He murmured, and closed the space between them, pulling her close like she was precious and meeting her lips. It was soft and sweet, and like always, over too soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I had no idea how the frescoes were done until I started researching it for this chapter! If you want to check out how it's done, here's an excellent video! 
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cej4Ggq5nQI


	62. A Letter

“My Lady Inquisitor, it’s good of you to speak with me. I have news regarding one of your… Companions. The Tevinter.” Mother Giselle greeted, stopping her in the great hall. 

“Dorian is a wonderful human.” She replied defensively, trying to temper the flare of annoyance.

“I’ll admit I have reservations about his presence here. But this is another matter. I have been in contact with his family: House Pavus, out of Qarinus. Are you familiar with them?”

“Enough to know there’s bad blood.” She replied.

“Yes. I believe you’re correct. The family sent a letter describing the estrangement from their son and pleading for my aid. They’ve asked to arrange a meeting. Quietly, without telling him. They fear it’s the only way he’ll come. Since you seem to be on good terms with the young man, I’d hoped…”

“Absolutely not. I’m going to go tell him about this right now. I won’t go along with some scheme to blindside him into an interaction he doesn’t want.” Well. So much for tempering.

“Ah. I feared you might say that. The family will send a retainer to meet the young man at the Redcliffe Tavern to take him onward. If he truly does not wish this reunion, he can always end the matter there. I pray you change your mind, Inquisitor. Perhaps their letter will persuade you. If there is any chance of success in this, it behooves us to act.” She entreated, in her calm, steady voice that made it sound as though she was being oh so reasonable. Thenera nodded to the sister with a flat look she tried not to let slip into a glare. She took the letter without a glance to its contents and turned.

She headed into the rotunda, and Solas glanced up from the book he was reading with a smile that turned quizzical as he took in her expression. 

“Vhenan?” He greeted. She released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and gave him as much of a smile as she could muster through her dissipating annoyance. 

“Meddling Chantry.” She explained with exasperation.

“Ah. Will it affect things?” He asked, always curious. She pulled closer in him, attempting to keep some privacy to their conversation. 

“Big picture? No. But it’ll make a big difference to one person.” She replied, voice pitched low.

“Vhenan, you cannot be everyone’s personal savior. Not with a war on the horizon and a dark future still possible.” He chided. She could point out that she had done the same for him, but she didn’t regret a second of it. Except for not being able to do more. 

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t try.” She moved closer to him, lowering her voice to murmur in his ear. “This is important to Dorian, so I’m going to help. And we have time for this.” 

“Someday, your very nature will stop surprising me.”

“Hopefully. Then I can find new and… More interesting ways instead.” She caught his gaze with a smirk, then pulled herself to tiptoes to press her lips against his earlobe, just for a fleeting moment before she turned and headed towards Dorian, leaving Solas flushed behind her.

She padded up the stairs quietly, finding him engrossed in research from Alexius. 

“Hey Dorian, I have a letter you’re just going to loooooove.” She greeted.

“A letter? Is it a naughty letter? A humorous proposal from some Antivan Dowager?”

“I wish, that would be so much better.”

“Oh?”

“It’s from your father.” She handed across the letter.

“From my father. I see. And what does Magister Halward want, pray tell?”

“A meeting. Ugh. I’m sorry.”

He turned to the letter, reading it with a scowl. 

“‘I know my son?’ What my father knows of me would barely fill a thimble. This is so typical. I’m willing to bet this ‘retainer’ is a henchman, hired to knock me on the head and drag me back to Tevinter.”

“I’ll go with you. They try? We kill them. Easy peasy.” She offered.

“He expects me to travel with Mother Giselle, although Maker knows why he’d think I would. Let’s go. Let’s meet this so-called ‘family retainer.’” 

“Ok. We can head to Redcliffe on our way back from Crestwood, just make a big loop of it.”

“Joy. Redcliffe again.”

“Agreed. Wine?”

“Wine.”


	63. Drinks in the Library

“JOIN US!” Thenera called over the balcony after the second glass. A few of the mages studying in the library shot her glares, but she was just fuzzy enough to only feel mildly chastised. She grinned at Solas, who returned a look that seemed equal parts chagrined and amused, and he came up the stairs.

“Inquisitor.” He greeted dryly.

“Victory!” She gloated as he made it to the top of the stairs. Dorian let out a laugh from his armchair, and Thenera grabbed Solas’ hands and pulled him to sit on the floor in the small alcove, her mostly empty glass on the stones nearby.

“You know quite well that I’m not particularly fond of most beverages made by the humans, yes?”

“I’m shocked! Utterly shocked by this turn of events!” Dorian replied, and Thenera giggled.

“You’re not fond of a lot of things. Booze, tea, the Dalish, the chantry, the circles…” She said, ticking them off on her fingers as she went. “But you like me!”

“I am quite fond of you.” He admitted, still caught between chagrin and amusement. She linked her arm through his and scooted closer.

“And I wanted to keep you from yelling to all of Skyhold if possible. There are people trying to study here.” He continued, chastising, and wound his fingers through hers, squeezing reassuringly.

“Oh yes, please. By all means rub my face in the fact that I am quite alone in a strange cold country that often smells of dog, with few friends and fewer prospects.” Dorian waved a hand dramatically and took a pointed drink of his wine.

“Oh come on Dorian. We both know that’s not true.” She grinned and quirked a brow at him, and he flushed.

“I’m certain I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He hid behind his glass and took another drink.

“He would be into it.” She said in a sing song. Solas’ head tilted as he processed. “And you have my friendship.”

“Well that at least is true, my dear Inquisitor.” He replied, draining his glass. Thenera let out a contented breath and leaned against Solas’ shoulder.

“I wish it could be like this forever.” She said wistfully, face pleasantly warm from the wine and growing warm in other places due to Solas’ proximity.

“Oh? Having a darkspawn magister out for your blood with an artifact of unknown power and a legion of Red Templars behind him is your idea of a good time?” He turned to Solas. “My dear Apostate, you have quite a lot to live up to.”

Oh if only he knew. She laughed, something wild that bubbled out of her. The rough fibers of Solas’ tunic scratched her cheek as her head fell back with it. When it broke, she closed her eyes and nuzzled into him. The warmth spread, sweet and heavy and begging for a spark of action that would turn it to an inferno. She stilled it instead, letting just this feeling be enough. The feeling of wanting, of being wanted. Of something new and still unknown that sent a song through her veins. Vhenan.

“Not that. This. The moments in between where it’s quiet and nice. Nothing trying to kill me this second. With people dear to me.” She ghosted the fingers she would lose over the back of Solas’ hand, still trapped by her other, fingers wound together and holding him captive with her weight against his.

“I should get you to your quarters, Thenera. It’s growing late and we leave early for Crestwood.” Solas said, seeming to think she was much further gone than she actually was and probably trying to escape.

“Ugh. Crestwood.” She pouted.

“Don’t like it there?” Dorian asked.

“Bad memories.” She grumbled, and then caught herself. Right. She had never been there. Not yet. Luckily Dorian wouldn’t question, and there was no way for Solas to know exactly why she hated the place. “Apparently right now it’s rainy and damp and full of undead from the rift.”

“Yuck.” Dorian sniffed. “And you want me to go there with you?”

“Hoping it’ll clear up when we take care of that rift.” She offered.

“Do you think it will?” Solas asked.

“I think the odds are good.” She responded, shrugging against him and trusting him to read her well enough to know. “Besides, at least you mages get to shield against the rain.”

“Oh, yes, I suppose that’s quite inconvenient for those without magic.” Dorian preened. _Preened_. Freaking mages with their useful freaking magic who could have hot water and dry clothes all the time.

“Dorian? Anyone tell you you’re insufferable sometimes?” She shot him a halfhearted glare and Solas squeezed her hand in his. She glanced up at him and saw the corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth, lips forming a ghost of a smile he tried to subdue. Oh, those lips. Would Dorian be mad if she climbed on top of Solas right now to kiss him? Probably. It would be kinda rude. And they would be blocking his escape. He would be forced to watch awkwardly. And probably give them some terrible, scathing commentary.

“Nearly daily my little minx.” Dorian replied smugly.

“Thenera, we really should get you to bed. How much have you had? And do you still need to pack?” Solas pushed. He was clearly done with this bit of bonding with the ‘Vint. And he was offering to take her upstairs, to privacy where she could taste him again. Maybe he would even let her taste other parts of him. She swallowed.

Except. Cullen was still in the worst of his withdrawals. She could lie to herself and say that two glasses of wine was enough to lose her senses, but it wasn’t. She would have to spend at least the next week away, and he would be suffering alone. She couldn’t make that choice tonight, couldn’t choose to be that selfish. She sighed.

“I can pack in under an hour, we’ve been on the road enough. Plus. Dalish! Also, this is only my second drink. And as much as I would love you to drag me to my quarters, I have commitments.” She said, moment over.

“I see. I have the herbs you asked for downstairs.” Solas responded, some strange combination of emotions flickering across his face.

“Thank you Vhenan.” She said, pulling herself away from his warmth and looking into his eyes. Concern swam there, softened by the word, the word that made everything between them harder and easier. Vhenan.

“Oh do get a room.” Dorian snapped, rolling his eyes in good natured annoyance.


	64. Knock, Knock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess, I'm sorry. PREPARE FOR SOME EMOTIONAL WHIPLASH.

“You're kidding, right?” Thenera asked incredulously.

“Do I seem especially prone to such a thing?” Solas returned. They had made camp along the northern shore of Lake Calenhad for the evening, and Solas, being Solas, had set up their tent in their usual configuration; with all their personal effects separating their bedrolls. Thenera sighed.

“No. You don't.” She responded glumly. She withdrew from the tent to let him change for the evening, sitting near where Varric and Cole were having a conversation. She rubbed the glowing light in her palm halfheartedly. It was starting to build again, and apparently it was going to make her cranky. The dwarf shot her a look, taking in her chagrin.

“I think I have it. Let me try again.” The spirit said.

“Alright, Kid, let's see what you've got.” Varric responded, encouraging him.

“Knock, knock.” The spirit said tentatively.

“Who's there?”

“Cole.”

“Cole who?” Varric asked, resigned.

“It's me, Cole. That is my name.” He said, sounding proud of himself. Adorable. She let some of her annoyance dissipate.

“No, no. You're still not getting it. Sorry, Kid.” He patted Cole on the arm, and took a drink from his mug. Dinner had been finished a while ago, and most were wandering off to their tents. It was good to see these two bonding.

Solas returned, and Thenera brushed past him, slipping inside to put on her nightgown for the evening. Varric just watched, thoughtful expression on his face.

After she changed, Solas joined her inside again.

“Sound barrier?” She asked him. He nodded and obliged her, enveloping the space inside the tent. “So. I get the feeling there’s something you want to ask, but won’t. Except I can’t answer it if you won’t ask.”

“There are often things I wish to ask you, Thenera. Could you be more specific?” He obfuscated, sitting cross legged on his bedroll facing her.

“Augh.” Well. Seemed like they were going to have this conversation tonight. She plopped down in a similar manner and faced him. “Cullen.”

She watched him bristle. Interesting that an Elven god would be jealous. But she supposed gods often were.

“Ah. Yes. I had not realized you were close with him.”

“I’ve been trying not to be. But withdrawals? I can help. I’ve done it before.” She offered.

“Trying not to be? Why? And when have you been in this position before?” His head tilted to the side as he asked.

“My first clan had some shady things going on the side, including a small number who got caught up in lyrium smuggling. My brother was one of them.”

“I’m sorry.” He responded, brows knitting as he looked at her again as though she was a puzzle.

“Me too. But my mamae and I helped him through the withdrawals when he realized he needed to stop. He’s doing well now, now that we’re away from that clan. Bonded a few years ago, and happier than I’ve ever known him to be.”

“Older brother?”

“Younger. I… Obviously didn’t find someone in either clan. There were a couple close calls. One was a miracle I got away, he was in Clan Ghimyean. The other? I… He got bored of me and left. Moved away.” She shrugged, pretending at nonchalance.

“Bored?” His voice was deadly, sharp.

“I was too much in the wrong ways and not enough in the right ways. But you wanted to ask about Cullen.” She deflected. Some memories didn’t quite heal. His eyes narrowed, but he nodded, allowing her to redirect the conversation.

“You said you were specifically trying not to get too close.”

“Right. Well. This might make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry about that.” She grimaced. “There was a version of this I saw in my dreams, where I was someone else. She had a relationship with Cullen, and he admitted to her that he’d had feelings for her for longer than he should admit, before he really knew her, and their relationship changed him. He got to be happy.”

“For her? Someone else? Please elaborate.”

“I’ve been trying not to let him develop feelings for me, because I can’t offer him that.”

“I was referring to ‘someone else.’” He said pointedly.

“I’ve seen snippets in my dreams were I was watching someone else, a different Inquisitor.”

“There could have been others?” He seemed baffled by this new piece of information.

“Yes. There were so many people at the Conclave, it was just a matter of who wound up that that exact spot at the right time. It was just an accident that it was me.” She offered him. “Though.. Most of the steps are the same, and some moments are fixed no matter who.”

“What would have happened to you if it had been someone else?” His eyes narrowed, trying to bore into hers from across their pile of effects.

“I’m not sure. I probably would have died in the explosion.” She responded with a shrug.

“I am very glad that you did not.” He said quietly.

“Me too.” She said. “You don’t have to worry about Cullen. I have no interest in him that way. Even if I could get past the fact that I just don’t find him especially attractive, he is… far, far too nice and safe for me.”

“Too nice and safe? I suppose I have told you myself that I’m not, Thenera…” He trailed off, baffled and hurt.

“You aren’t.” She explained. “You’re passionate and brilliant and caring, and you’ll stand your ground for your beliefs. You will never become just an extension of me, and you will never fear telling me your opinion. You aren’t nice. You are so, so much more. I would walk all over Cullen. I have a strong will and I need someone who can stand up to it, not someone _nice_ who will strive to please me even if it harms them. I have no wish to abuse anyone like that, and I know myself well enough to know that I would if it was too easy. I have.”

“You will walk by my side as an equal instead of one of us trailing behind the other.” She responded, vehement. “You aren’t nice. You are compassionate and wise enough that spirits of those natures have counted you as a friend. You’re my heart, my partner, and my equal. Ar lath ma, Solas, vhenan.”

Solas’ frown changed through her monologue, pain giving way to puzzlement, begrudging respect taking the place of the hurt, and then, finally, a smile lit his face as he understood. He rose, and stepped over the armor and weaponry strewn between them.

“There are few who could say such a thing and still manage to make it endearing. You are magnificent, Emmaera.” He knelt in front of her and took her face in his hands, gazing at her in wonder. Her brain nearly short circuited at his touch, and she wondered idly when it would stop doing that. It was very inconvenient.

“Emmaera?” She asked, voice thick as she fell into his eyes, dark and sparkling in the dim light of the tent.

“My dream.” He responded. “Emmaera, and ma’lea’vune. My moonlight.”

A smile broke over her face, and she lunged at him, knocking him to the ground, pinning him under her as she met his lips. He froze, just a bare moment before his carefully crafted control snapped and he returned her kiss with fervor. She surged against him, and he responded in kind, pushing, pulling, a dance of struggling wills. She threaded her fingers through his, incapacitating his hands as she spread out over him, lips and tongue replying to his sentiments. Words were inadequate.

“Thenera.” He pleaded between kisses, even as he rocked against her. She took in a shuddering breath.

“Do I need to stop?” She asked, closing her eyes against the rush of disappointment, trying to calm her breathing. He was growing hard against her, hot and far too easy to feel through the thin gray fabric of her nightgown. Fuck she wanted to taste him. She whimpered when he twitched against her, and her own twitch responded, small muscles in her hips pushing against him involuntarily. He let out a groan, undermining all attempts at control and she bucked against him, harder this time, driving the thoughts from his mind as surely as her own were mush.

He pulled his long, strong, gorgeous hands from under hers and wrapped around her waist as he pushed against her, sitting up and clutching her to him. One moved up to tangle in her hair, and she tried desperately to stifle a moan as he pulled her head away by the hair in his fist. She failed, and he made a deep rumble of appreciation before his lips met her throat to trail kisses.

She squirmed with the sensation, muscles firing and spasming, grinding against him as she gasped and moaned, unable to stop the sounds that he coaxed from her throat. He caught her earlobe in his mouth and nipped around the tiny earrings she wore, and she shivered into him. His other hand reached down, grabbing her ass and pulling her ever closer as she rocked against him, pinning her left arm under his right. She reached and grabbed at his back, sinking into his tunic and digging into his flesh as her free hand sunk nails into his neck, clutching herself to him.

“Please.” She whimpered between moans. He chuckled against her neck, setting her shivering and helpless against him.

“Please what, Vhenan?” He asked, low and pleased in her ear, rocking her again. “I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific.”

“Please…” She struggled for the words, waves of sensation too much. “Please, can I taste you?”

He groaned and pulled her back by her hair.

“Thenera…” He said tremulously, breathing hard. She whimpered, and he slowly released the hold he had on her hair, pulling his other hand away from her butt. He closed his eyes and steadied himself, swallowing thickly, trying to banish the lust that fogged both of their senses. “I don’t think that’s the best idea.”

“I think it might be the best idea I’ve ever had. Unless you don’t enjoy that.” She replied, filter between her brain and mouth currently malfunctioning.

“I assure you that’s not the issue.” He said, pupils still blown wide.

“What is?” She asked, heart still pounding. She placed one hand over his heart and felt it thrumming at a pace to match hers, his skin fevered even through his tunic.

“We should get some sleep, Vhenan. We have a long day tomorrow, and I would hate for you to be injured because I kept you from proper rest.”

She took in a gulp of air, fighting against the surge of disappointment. He obfuscated. Of course he did.

“Dread Wolf take me.” She said bitterly, as much a plea as a curse. She unhooked her legs from behind him and slid off his lap awkwardly. He swallowed, glancing away as she said it.

“Ir abelas.” He said, sounding nearly as unhappy.

“No, it’s ok. I just… Didn’t realize there was a boundary there.” She took a deep, steadying breath, trying to release the heat that had pooled under her nightgown. “I’m sorry I stepped on it, and I’m sorry for my frustration. It’s been a while and I don’t always do well with cooling off when tensions get so high.”

“I… Thank you. That is very considerate.”

“Not really. Boundaries are important.” She shrugged. “Though I might need to run into the lake.”

“Cold water does seem like a good idea.” He said mildly. “That is not a curse I’ve heard before, it’s generally ‘Dread Wolf take _you_.’”

“What can I say? I’m a strange one.” She quirked a brow at him, offering a reassuring smile.

“That you are, my heart.”


	65. Fade Nuke

Crestwood proved to be as damp and gross as expected, though not nearly as bad as the Fallow Mire. The glow from the lake was eerie, and dead fish washed up along the shoreline occasionally. 

“There’s a lake like this one near my family’s estates. Fewer demons.” Dorain said as they caught sight of the green glow emanating from the water.

“It sounds different. The water changes the song.” Cole commented.

“What song, kid?” Varric asked.

“The song. Can you not hear it?” He gazed over the water, eyes too big.

“I think this one’s all you.” He responded.

“Yea. Let’s make quick work of this mess so we can get out of the damp and cut down on the undead. Hopefully save some of the villagers.” Thenera said, leading them along the shoreline, and down to the old fort. It would be good to have a base of operations, and cut down on the bandit activity in the area. Plus it would lead them to the mechanism once they talked to the Mayor. 

Luckily, with so many in their traveling group, it wouldn’t be too dangerous to take ownership for the Inquisition. She had set out with Dorian, Bull, Varric, Cole, and of course, Solas. 

And the mark was aching, needing to expend the energy that had built up. If she remembered right, there was a helluva tank that would make an excellent target for the Fade Nuke.

The door was barred from the inside.

“Oi, Bull. Do me a favor and make some sad splinters for me?”

“Sure thing Boss.” He said, cracking his knuckles before he pulled the massive hammer from his back.

“Solas? Barriers please?”

“Of course Inquisitor.” He replied smoothly.

“I bet there’s a bunch of bandits holed up in here. You all know the drill. Well, except you, Cole.”

“They like hurting people.” Cole added, voice dark.

“Yep. We’re gonna keep them from hurting more.”

A barrier wrapped around their group, and Cole suddenly got much harder to see. It wasn’t that he was invisible, exactly, but her eyes wanted to slide past him, and she figured it must be much more so for their enemies. This was her first time fighting with him, and it would be interesting. 

Bull smashed as he was so excellent at, and Thenera and Varric had arrows and bolts readied, respectively. So did the archers on the other side of the pile of splinters. They didn’t have a mage though. 

Their arrows skittered harmlessly off their barriers, and Thenera took careful aim, loosing once she was sure she had a clear shot. Two fell in her and Varric’s first volley, and Bull let out a bellowing roar and charged in.

Cole moved like a shadow, slipping through the doorway as he darted behind one of the armored foes, daggers slicing between the seams, ending their lives too quickly for them to suffer. 

More warriors rushed down the stairs, and Dorian snapped a fire rune onto them, igniting everyone who passed it, and screams and smoke filled the air.

She aimed at the archers still remaining on the roof. The barrier had a few seconds left at most, and she loosed an arrow, toppling one of them. She turned to the next, getting another shot off at the same time as his. She felt the magic around her collapse as the arrow flew, and the returning shot lit a line of fire across the lightly protected skin under her armpit. A grazing shot, luckily.

Solas and Dorian aimed for those wise enough not to cross the rune, magic working together with surprising efficacy.

Bull dispatched the final of the warriors, and Dorian released the rune. Thenera swigged a potion, the sting dissipating and allowing her to draw her bow fully again. She readied it, Solas refreshing their barrier, and they climbed the stairs, ready for the next wave. 

They worked their way through the fortress, picking off a few stragglers until they made their way to the top of the battlements. 

She halted them before rounding the corner. 

“Barrier?”

“You sure there’s more Boss? I bet we got most of them by the front gates.”

“Rather be safe than dead.” She responded, and Solas nodded, giving her one of his usual questioning looks.

“Give me a few moments, Inquisitor.” He replied.

“Please, allow me.” Dorian flourished dramatically, and his barrier went up. It felt, or, maybe tasted, different than Solas’ magic. Where Solas’ was cool, calm and reassuring, Dorians was warm, and nearly spicy feeling. Interesting.

They turned the corner after that final flight of stairs, weapons drawn and ready, and she raised her bow to greet the first of them. His scream startled the others, and adrenaline spiked as half a dozen bandits rushed them. 

Bull pulled attention, and Thenera continued to pick off the other archers as the melee battle raged, scent of blood thick in the air, singed hair and meat joining with Dorian’s contributions. 

They fell. One by one they fell, until the barrier dropped around them and the leader rushed out, running towards them with a maddened cry.

“FALL BACK!” Thenera bellowed. They did so, and she raised her marked hand towards him, concentrating on the space under his feet, and she released the surging power that pulsed against her.

There was a deafening crack, a hollow sound that seemed more like an absence than anything real, and her party stared, gape jawed, at the screaming green energy of the fade that rent and tore at his flesh, stripping it away like it was little more than tissue paper. His scream was swallowed in the boom, and as the energy finally quieted, all that was left was a wet pile of flesh and bone. 

She felt hollow, and slowly, everyone but Cole turned to stare at her, aghast.

“Andraste’s tits, Glowy.” Varric said slowly. “Remind me to never get on your bad side.”

Bull grumbled his agreement.

“That was… Terrifying. Can you teach me?” Dorian asked.

“I believe that was specifically tied to the mark, the anchor.” Solas added. “Though it does seem to be a new ability tied to it. How did this happen?”

“Happened when Coryphetits tried to take it. He did something to it, changed it somehow, or unlocked it.”

“Does it hurt?” Solas asked.

“Bright, blinding, too much. Not pain but loud, struggling against the pull, eating her away. It will kill her, but not yet. Maybe not ever. A cost.” Cole supplied.

“Yea, like that. Been making it a little hard to concentrate today. It builds as we fight, like… almost like the adrenaline fuels it. It feels less stable, but it’s also very useful.”

“When did it first happen?” 

“The night Haven fell. In the tunnels. There were banshees, and I was spent on everything except my adrenaline.”

“I see.”


	66. Bare and Raw

She must have been exhausted from the fights, from the rage demon and the rift and horrible evidence of the mayor’s treachery.

They reached out into the light and she nearly skipped forward, eyes straining to adjust to the sunshine now that the rift under the lake was sealed.

The rift _outside_ the cave caught her off guard. She had completely forgotten it was there, until the Revenant pummeled her with pulsing green light, and she cried out in shocked pain as it tore through armor, bruising ribs.

A barrier went up around her, panicked, and they scattered into an ill formed version of their usual routine, muscle memory the only saving grace.

She downed a potion to take the edge off. It wasn’t enough, but it was enough to keep her in the fight, and she ran to disrupt the rift as the others drew the attention of the demons that had come through. It crackled and dispersed under her command, and the demons paused, paralyzed as the hole they had been called through was suddenly very different. It washed through her, crackling, and several wisps dissipated into glowing green that pulled back through the tear. She drew her bow and began laying arrows into the Revenant, the only one that had survived her disruption, grateful for its height that gave her a clean shot now.

It unfroze, and slashed at Bull, and she sensed more than saw Dorian throw a barrier over him between bursts of fire from his staff, as her own barrier melted away.

Bull hacked away, and Cole danced behind, sliding daggers into its not-flesh, moving like shadows. It drew itself up, switching targets, and released another volley of glowing green, poisonous energy at Thenera.

She pulled her bow in close and rolled out of the shot. Or tried. The exhaustion made her moves sloppy, and it caught her again in the final throes of its blast. Pain ripped through her torso, through her already damaged armor, hitting her in the side, and she clenched her teeth over a cry that came out mangled.

“Thenera! No!” Solas cried. Bull roared, and the demon went down, but there were already more coming through, blocking the path to reach her.

A new barrier covered her, and there wasn’t time to assess the damage. She uncorked another potion, the last one she had on her, and let it settle over the worst of the damage, curtailing the wet, sickening feeling. She stayed on the ground.

Solas threw himself into the fight, arcs of fade magic littering the battlefield in desperation as he tried to work through the wisps and rage demon that stood in his path to her.

It was hard to tell just how bad it was, which meant it was probably bad, but not life threatening. A shakiness, a fatigue set in. She raised her bow, trying to help take on the rage demon that had materialized, but her arms were shaking too much. She would hit one of her companions.

Instead, she focused on disrupting the rift, something she couldn’t possibly miss with, and the rushing feeling pulled through her and let her focus on something else. She couldn’t tell if it was making her injury worse, and she really hoped it wouldn’t.

One of the wisps began floating towards her, and Dorian raised a wall of fire between them, incinerating it as it tried to pass through.

She tried to force the shaking to subside, and by the time the wall of fire came down, the rage demon had been defeated. She raised her marked hand and closed the rift as Solas sprinted towards her.

The rushing feeling from the anchor left her reeling, and she collapsed against the ground, careful to land on her uninjured side. Solas knelt beside her, and she looked up into his face, swimming with concern and backlit against the sky.

“How bad is it? This sucks.” She said, tremor in her voice despite her attempt at nonchalance.

“You can’t tell?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Probably some shock. I know it’s not great.” She said numbly. “Breathing hurts, but I still can. Something ribs? I can’t tell right now.”

He reached out, and began weaving healing magic into her. It reminded her of the day they had made potions together, of how it had taken until the frozen walk from the ruins of Haven to get the smell of elfroot out of her hair. Of the night she had almost been killed by the assassin in Redcliffe, and he had trembled to see her so hurt. So much had changed that day. A small smile lit her face at the feeling, at the memories his touch brought.

“You’ll live.” He said, relieved.

“Good. I would hate to let everyone down now, while there are still rifts and Coryphetits.”

“Yea Boss. Rub some dirt in it and walk it off.” Bull’s voice called out. She dimly realized that they were all approaching, surrounding her. Great. First one to get seriously injured. For the second time, if you counted the nearly successful assasination attempt. Third if you counted her collapse at the end of the frozen walk after Haven. She was going to have to practice more, maybe pick up some new armor.

“I’ll get right on that. As soon as I can walk again.” She offered with a halfhearted smile. The shaking was subsiding, and she tried to lift her head, to take a look at the wound. Some of her clothing had been burned away by the blast, or eaten away, possibly. Definitely some new armor. The skin over her ribs that peeked through was angry and pink and looked strange. “Was it real gross?”

“Part of your side was eaten away with raw energy from the Fade, Vhenan. What do you think?” Solas said quietly.

“Oh. Lovely.”

He healed it as much as he could, and one of the others gave her another elfroot potion. But the exhaustion was deep, and she was going to be lucky to make it back to camp and shovel some food in before sleep.

She stood, breeze on her left side above her belt feeling strange. She was covered in so many gross things, and she should really do a full inventory of everything wrong. They began making their way from the alcove when she noticed the steam coming off the pool under the waterfall.

“Wait. Is that? It’s a hot spring!!” She cried in glee. She began stripping, heedless of the men around her. They could deal. She pulled off her half melted belt and coat carefully. Dorian and Cole were the only ones who hadn’t seen it before, and it wasn’t like she was either of their types. Varric turned, and Solas studiously tried to look elsewhere, strangled expression on his face. “Join if you want!”

“Thenera!” Solas said, face set in consternation. She gave him a challenging look as she worked at the buckles of her breastplate, still fully intact there at least.

“Oooh. Are we all to get in the hot spring with the infamous Herald of Andraste? This sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke. ‘The Herald, an apostate, a demon, a dwarf, a Vint, and a Qunari strip together…’” Dorian answered cavalierly, beginning the process of undoing all his buckles with a rakish look.

“I’m not a demon.” Cole said petulantly.

“No Cole, you’re perfect.” Thenera responded, shimmying out of her breeches, gingerly navigating the holes smattering the side. The new skin felt strange and tight as she moved the tender muscles under it, not completely healed yet.

“So, you, uh, really don’t mind Boss?”

“Dalish. You find a hot spring, everyone gets in. No space for some Chantry enforced morality that makes life harder.” She pulled her hair from the braid, still damp from the drizzle that was beginning to let up now that the sun was out.

“Fair enough.” He answered, and he began joining.

“I’ve never been in a hot spring.” Cole said, curious. “I didn’t know it came off.”

“Yep! Not the skin though, usually.” She answered. “You can join if you like. But no touching once we’re in the water.”

“Touching what?” He asked innocently.

“Each other. Makes things weird.” Bull finished for her.

In the end, everyone decided to join, leaving their smalls on. One concession she made to the strangled look Solas gave her. Unfortunately, the attack had put some awkward holes in her breast band, and it unraveled on its own as soon as she pulled off the shirt under her armor, and there didn’t seem a way to put it back on in its condition.

Solas blushed, adorably, but Thenera was far too exhausted to enjoy it like she should.

At least there was another back at camp, and her other clothing would cover her sufficiently to keep her bouncing from being obvious.

She sank into the hot water and considered just going to sleep there. Cole had left his hat on, and she snickered.

She lay back and shook her hair out in it, letting bits of gunk float away, and ran her hands over her arms and legs, scrubbing the sweat from her skin.

“Alright. If this is part of the ‘wilderness’ thing, it’s not so terrible. Definitely going in the book.” Varric said, leaning back with a languid smile.

“You’re writing a book about the Inquisition?” Solas asked.

“Yea. Not sure what I’m going to call it yet.”

“Are you certain you can do this magnificence justice?” Dorian asked with a flourish of his hand.

“I’m sure it’ll be a trial, but I’ll see what I can do.” Varric responded wryly.

“What are you going to say about me, Longshot?” Thenera asked, curious, sitting up again and facing the rest of the group. She ran her fingers through her hair to head off the tangles that would undoubtedly need to be worked through later.

“That shit’s weird and you’re the ringleader.” He said. She laughed. “Yea. Like that. You stare off all weird, laugh at weird shit, blow shit up with your weird-ass mark, and have no problem spitting in the face of your scary ass, would-be-god enemy that _I already killed once_.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it sticks next time.” She replied, giving him a lopsided smile. So, he had noticed her weird looks. She should have expected that. Luckily he was just attributing it to her overall personality.

“You say that now, darling, but you just had some of your skin melted off by a minor demon and your special apostate friend had to save your sorry ass.” Dorian quipped, and she was sorely tempted to kick him, hot spring rules be damned.

“Good thing he’ll be with me when we face Coryphytits.” She returned. Varric spluttered at the name. Apparently he hadn’t quite heard her the other times she’d called him that. And then remembered. That’s when he would be leaving, leaving for good. Leaving for two years, only to return to take the anchor and her arm.

“Well _that’s_ definitely going in the book.”

“Cracked pain, sadness, fingerprints shattered. ‘ _What we had was real_.’ But that wasn’t. That wasn’t this.” Cole said, turning his haunted eyes to Thenera, just for the barest of seconds, and she tried put up a mask reflexively. Solas caught it, and shot her a questioning glance, pretending to be looking at the stone formation behind her.

“Who was that one for?” Bull asked. His eyes had been closed, enjoying the heat, and now they opened and peered between their group.

“Perhaps it was a memory held in this place.” Solas supplied, giving Bull a placating smile. He grumbled, obviously not buying it.

“It was a dream, but it also wasn’t. Layers of scars, outside matching in, building armor of bones that leaves your heart bare and raw. It’s not worthless.” Cole added, apparently adamant that she take ownership.

“It’s been discarded enough times.” She responded, feeling her eyes start to prickle.

“If you kept it locked away you would be someone else. You don’t want to be someone else. You want to be you, the you that cares, even if it means you hurt.”

“Yea. I suppose I do, Cole.”


	67. Precious to Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken a few days! Had a tight deadline at work and didn't have time to write most of this week. I'll try to get a few updates this week, as I leave next Friday for Paris and may or may not be able to write/upload! Also short chapter is short, but the next couple are longer!

“Thank you. A spirit such as that could not have left here until it had proven its nature.” Solas said, after they returned to Old Crestwood and talked to the wisp there. She was dragging on her feet, but she really wanted to get this finished today so they could move onto Grey Warden stuff tomorrow. 

“All in a day’s work. A very, very long day. Back to the keep? Rest after a long day closing rifts and uncovering treachery?”

“Ma nuvenin.” Solas answered.

“Honestly, I’m surprised you’re still on your feet.” Varric commented. 

“Me too.” She replied.

“And would you look at that! Our brave Herald was right about the rain letting up!” Dorian said. She flashed him a smile. They had all, thankfully, chosen not to push into Cole’s words. 

They made it back to the keep slowly, and scouts had begun moving in. They arrived to a hearty stew ready over the fire and tents already set up, and she was infinitely grateful. She ate ravenously, barely speaking until she finished her bowl, letting Varric fill in the officers so they could report to Leliana. He'd probably be better at it anyways. 

She rose to take her dirty bowl to the washbasin, but a scout took it from her hands the moment she stood. She nodded her exhausted thanks and slipped off into her tent, going through the motions of getting ready to sleep woodenly. The flap rustled as she took off the last of her armor.

“Thenera, may I check your wound again?”

“Of course, Vhenan.” She replied. “Though once I sit I'm likely not getting back up.” 

“Then stay seated and I'll bring your nightgown once I have checked your wound. May I remove your tunic to examine the injury site?” He asked cautiously, hesitation in his tone. 

“You mean what's left of it? Yea definitely.” She replied, and he helped lift the tattered fabric over her head, and motioned her to sit. She did, and he called light into his hands, pouring it over her skin. It felt strange, prickling, as though it was illuminating far more than the new pink skin Solas had regrown for her. She looked down, craning to see, but the angle was weird and the light too cold to make much sense of it. 

“Oh, I should grab my mirror.” She mumbled.

“If you allow me to heal it fully, it shouldn't scar, Vhenan.” Solas replied.

“Really? You’re amazing. I would like to see though, still.” She said, exhaustion laced through her words, kept at bay by curiosity.

“Allow me.” He turned to her pack.

“Left side pocket on the outside.” She supplied. He found it easily, as well as her nightgown, and returned, handing it to her. “Ma serannas, Solas.”

She inspected the area. It was much smaller than it had felt, only a patch the size of her palm noticeably different. Would be an interesting scar, if Solas couldn't heal it. Satisfied with her inspection, she nodded to him, and he began pouring his mana into her once more. She closed her eyes against the sensation. The closer they got, the more intimate it felt, his magic that tasted like herbs and leather and warm ground beneath your back as you drifted into dreams…

He pulled back, apparently having healed the spot thoroughly, and handed her nightgown to her. She pulled it over her head, grateful for the hot spring earlier to remove the grime. 

“It's not worthless, Vhenan. You, and your heart, are precious to me. Please never doubt that. No matter what is to come.”

Her throat went thick as her vision blurred, and she gave him a nod in acknowledgement. He pulled her close. 

“No matter what is to come.” He echoed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of who I am as a person, this prompt fill actually goes next! It's them clearing the Wyvern cave in Crestwood!
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675916/chapters/45066925


	68. Redcliffe Again, Joy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one so I'll be uploading the next one right after this!

“You ready for this, Dorian?” Thenera asked. They stood at the door to the tavern in Redcliffe, the one that held oh so many wonderful memories. They had met with Stroud the previous day and closed a couple more rifts in Crestwood before heading down the East Road into the Hinterlands.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, my dear Inquisitor.” Dorian answered cavalierly, a gung ho smile belied by the set of his brows. 

“Alright. Everyone else, wait here. If there’s any trouble we’ll send up a signal.”

“And what should that signal be?” Solas asked, jaw muscles working but voice even.

“Umm. Either a lot of yelling, or we’ll set the place on fire. I mean, Dorian, I wouldn’t be mad if this place burned to the ground. Though I’d be sad for the innkeep.”

“Right, so not subtle.” Bull added, settling on one of the benches outside the door, seeming relaxed.

“Thrashing, choking, battered bits of throat. Skin sullied.” Cole said.

“Umm Cole now may not be the best time for that one. Later ok?” She replied, hand moving to scratch at her throat self consciously. Varric shifted his weight uncomfortably, and Solas’ jaw worked.

“It’s not for you.” He continued. “Can’t be gone, going, guttering. Pink turns red and mottled. Too many hopes for such a thin cord. A sound turned precious. Real.”

She swallowed and reached out for Solas’ hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Real. Is that when he had decided she was? 

“Yes.” He acknowledged Cole, simply. He squeezed back, a brief moment before he pulled away, all cool detachment on his impassive mask.

“So much changed that day but didn’t.” Cole glanced up and met Solas’ gaze for a moment. Something passed between them, some unspoken communication, and Cole looked away, his too wide eyes looking around the group, hat bobbing. “It won’t happen today. Today is for Dorian.”

“Yep. And we’ll be ok. I doubt anything will happen, and neither Dorian or I are exactly subtle when it comes to expressing ourselves. Let’s do this.” She offered Dorian a reassuring smile, and tamped down brutally on the emotions that threatened to well in this place where she had nearly been killed. She opened the door, and followed him through.


	69. Blood Magic Conversion Therapy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leaving for Paris tomorrow! We'll see how much I upload while I'm gone. It might be spotty or it might go back to every day for a while!

“Of course not. Magister Pavus couldn’t come to Skyhold and be seen with the Dread Inquisitor! What would people think! What is this exactly father? Ambush, kidnapping? A warm family reunion?” Dorian snapped at his father. The tavern was warm inside, and it was possible Dorian’s magic was making it warmer. It made the walls feel closer. She swallowed.

“This is how it has always been.” Halward said, entreating Thenera.

“Woe is me! I drove away my own son and now he’s angry! It’s clearly his fault!” She retorted to the magister.

“You don’t know the half of it. But maybe you should.” Dorian snarled.

“Dorian, there’s no need to-” His father placated. Dorian cut him off.

“I prefer the company of men. My father disapproves.” He said flatly.

“And that’s a problem why?” Thenera asked, raising a brow at the magister.

“It’s only a problem if you’re trying to live up to an impossible standard. Every Tevinter family is intermarrying to distill the perfect mage, perfect body, perfect mind. The perfect leader. It means that every perceived flaw, every aberration, is deviant and shameful. It must be hidden.” His moustache quivered in fury and pain.

“They did get the perfect right with you, at least. If your own father can’t see that, I think we’re done here.” She said, jaw clenching. She looked around the room and felt the panic surge, just a little, and she took a steadying breath. It was probably good she wasn’t a mage.

“I agree, let’s go. There’s nothing more to be gained here.” He spat, and they turned to the door.

“Dorian please, if you’d only listen to me.” Halward pleaded. Dorian rounded on him, furious.

“Why? So you can spout more convenient lies? He taught me to hate blood magic. ‘The resort of a weak mind.’ Those are his words. But what was the first thing you did when your precious heir refused to play pretend for the rest of his life? You tried to… Change me!” Dorian’s voice shook, a world of betrayal in those few words.

“I only wanted what was best for you.”

“You wanted the best for you! Your fucking legacy! Anything for that!” He yelled. Dorian turned away, leaning on the nearby table, trying to let go of the rage and hate he carried, and she turned to him.

“Let’s go Dorian. I think what needed to be said has been.” She said, sparing a flat glare for Halward.

“I agree.” He said. He looked back at his father one last time, and he turned away.

They made their way out of the tavern, out of claustrophobic air that held too many memories, and into the streaming sunlight of the town proper. She gulped in the cool breeze that played through the town.

“There were raised voices.” Bull said mildly, giving Thenera a flat look as he stood from the bench and stretched.

“I told them to stop. It would only make the tangles worse.” 

“Thank you Cole.” Thenera said, and turned to Dorian. 

“Wine?” She asked, mirthless smile on her face.

“Very much yes.” He stated, his face set in a grim line, unable to hold anyone’s gaze at the moment.

They headed back to the camp near the dragon’s nest, and she idly wondered if they would be strong enough now to face it. Her bow’s weight was much much heavier now, and her arrows had been upgraded as well. She wondered if they would be able to pierce its hide. Dragon hide would be a very useful thing to have before going to Halamshiral. She thought more on design ideas as they rode in silence to camp.

Once there, she immediately poured a glass for Dorian and brought it to him, bottle cradled under her arm for refills. He plucked the glass from her hand and took a long pull. She sat next to him, letting the silence settle until he was ready.

“He taught me principle is important.” He said, hurt in his words. “He cares for me, in his way, but he wanted me to change. I can’t forgive him for what he did. I won’t.”

“You ok?”

“No. Not really. Thank you for bringing me out there, even if it didn’t work out. Maker knows what you must think of me now, after that whole display.” He said, taking a deep drink from the cup with a grimace.

“I think you’re brave.” She said, offering him an earnest look.

“Brave?” He asked, confused.

“It’s not easy to turn from a life of comfort and power to be true to yourself. But that’s exactly what you did.” She explained. His confusion lifted and a small smile took its place. He nodded and swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with that level of emotional intimacy with so much sobriety.

“At any rate, time to drink myself into a stupor. It’s been sort of day. Anytime you’d care to join.” He said with faux nonchalance.

“I’ll be right back with a glass for myself.”

She grabbed one and settled down next to him by the fire. Varric went hunting, and Solas was kind enough to make dinner for their group that night, some delicious fade nug. Everyone gave them a little space, even Cole.

“I love my father. But I refuse to live a lie for him.” He said, staring into his mug. 

“You shouldn’t have to. And blood does not a family make.” She responded, voice soothing.

“You too? Daddy issues?” He said, a wry twist to his lips as he took another drink. Her nose crinkled in distaste.

“Ugh. Please never use that word around me. It’s squicky.” She stated.

“Squicky? What a novel word.” 

“It fits. And I’m not sure how to answer that. Probably? I was never close with my father, and he never tried to be close to me. He didn’t like children.”

“I see. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse.”

“Probably better. It’s harder to feel betrayed by someone you were never close with. He left my family a few years ago, and I haven’t heard from him since. Not actually sure he’s still alive.”

“Yes, well. Unfortunately, I was extremely close with my father until I refused to be married off like some commodity.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I. I remember as a child, wanting nothing more than to be like him, have his approval. He was my world.” Dorian continued.

“A smile that crinkles, eyes like yours. The wheels squeak as you play. You laugh when he makes the noises. Quack quack.” Cole said, tilting his hat towards Dorian. She hadn’t even noticed him sit down.

“It was my favorite toy when I was a child. A wooden duck. I remember it was once brightly painted, all green and blue and brown, but the paint wore off. I always thought it was like me. I found it in the trash one day. It looked sad, grime worked into the crevices, the paint worn off in areas and dull in others. Beautiful until loved enough, and then worthless. It looked like it belonged.” He stared into his cup, eyes too bright.

She swallowed, holding back the thing in her that resonated. She scooted closer to him, offering him a reassuring weight.

“Dorian, even if your paint wears off, you’ll still have me. I only want you to be yourself, and to be happy. You have me.” Thenera offered. “You know, in a platonic, non romantic way. No romo.”

“Yes, well. Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I definitely didn't catch Dorian talking about his dad using blood magic to try to make his son straight, and I saw red. I WILL FIGHT HIM.
> 
> Also 'no romo' is my new favorite thing.


	70. Lovely Little Scar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Should be back to my usual update frequency of a couple chapters a week! This one is a bit short, but the next one is verrrr long, just need to polish it a bit before posting.

“Oh.” Her breath caught as she nudged her horse, who she had finally named Aravas, to the North, toward Skyhold. Away from Haven. It was the first time leaving the Hinterlands that they wouldn’t be going to Haven.

Because Haven was gone.

She swallowed against the thickening feeling in her throat.

“What is the matter, Thenera?” Solas asked.

“Haven was that way.” She answered. “This is the first time not going down that road.”

“Yea, it’s rough isn’t it? But we made it Glowy! You made it. Through a freaking blighted dragon, insane magister, and an avalanche.” Varric said. “Despite all the odds. You’ve got some crazy ass luck, one way or the other.”

“And we will always have the memories made there.” Solas added, giving her a knowing look.

“Yes. Memories. Woven together with dreams. Moonlight and roses, leather and herbs. Full to bursting.” Cole said, and something in her loosened. Yes. They would always have the memory of Haven, together, full of the memories they made there and an ill considered kiss that no amount of pain later could make her regret.

She smiled at the spirit child, and he smiled back.

“It will always be important to me.” She said, echoing Solas’ words.

“Krem said the relief and recovery efforts went pretty well.” Bull offered.

“Yes. Josephine said there were quite a few refugees saved by their efforts. It was a very good thing.” She shot a smile over her shoulder at him.

“Skyhold is far more defensible my dear Inquisitor.” Dorian said.

“That it is Dorian.” She turned back, giving the road to nowhere one last look before continuing on.

They had spent one more day doing various things in the Hinterlands while they were in the area, though she hadn’t yet decided to take on the dragon. Next time. Maybe. After the one in the Western approach, for sure. Though they had managed to clear that terrifying rift at the waterfall this pass through, and get that damn druffalo back.

It was good to have benchmarks like that for growth. A way to see how far she had come, and how much farther she had to go.

It had been nearly six months since the conclave. Six months with a pulsing green scar on her hand, six months fighting and killing on a near constant basis. Six months since she had seen her clan, though she wrote. Six months keeping secrets from everyone. She didn’t know how Solas could stand it.

And he would for years to come.

She swallowed again.

“Hey Boss, remember that one day in the Tavern? When you made Sera just about choke on her ale?” Bull prompted, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh yea… I remember that. Something about ‘Elven glory.’” Varric chimed in. Solas started, head tilting to listen.

“Oh? What did I miss! Tell me every salacious detail.” Dorian added, raising a brow dramatically.

“Well, Glowy here was all kinds of tense from a certain apostate who will remain unnamed through this story.” Varric shot Solas a wry smile. “And Sera was, of course, her usual sweet self and said something about his head being crammed up a thousand years ago.”

“And then she made a lovely quip about said unnamed apostate and I ‘doin’ it, all ‘elven glory.’” She said, mimicking Sera’s tone. “Which was…. Very far from the realm of possibility, so I told her that her and I should. All ‘Elven glory.’ That shut her up.”

She shot a glance to Solas, who was spluttering. Well, the Solas version. Which mostly meant there was a slight twitch to one brow and his lips had tightened a bit. She grinned. He was still endlessly entertaining to throw off guard.

“And then you complained about having spies for friends.” Varric added.

“Which, to be fair, is a terrible idea. Especially when I’m an awful liar.” She shot him and Bull an exaggerated glare, nose wrinkled.

“Yea Boss, you really should work on that.” Bull agreed. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes for some interesting reports.”

“Fenedhis.” She cursed halfheartedly. At least there was no way for Bull to know the truth. And he hadn’t pried. Maybe after their next trip to the Storm Coast, she could tell him. And Dorian. But she still wouldn’t be able to tell Varric, or Cassandra, or the advisors.

“When did this occur exactly?” Solas asked, terribly chagrined. He pulled his mare alongside Aravas.

“Oh, it was while you were avoiding me.” She said cheerfully.

“I see.”

“And then we talked about finding you someone else suitable to blow off some steam, Boss.”

“The shade of purple you turned when Curly walked in!”

“Oh my, was she blushing? Does she blush?” Dorian asked in faux rapture.

“Oh, she blushes Sparkler. Gotta catch her off guard. But no, it was more of a freshly strangled look.” Varric commented, and then winced. “Ok, maybe not a great metaphor given other things.”

“My dear. If the Commander is truly so unappealing to you, I’d be happy to take him off your hands. But I don’t understand. The apostate with the sorry fashion sense over our blonde, muscular commander? With that lovely little scar?”

“You can have him. He doesn’t do it for me. Unfortunately, I think he’s straight though. ”

“Ah too bad. My loss.” Dorian sighed.

“And my gain.” Solas said, pitching his voice too low for anyone but Thenera to hear him, a small smile crinkling the corners of his mouth. She grinned.

“Besides, Solas has his own lovely little scar. And freckles. And reaaaaaally nice lips-”

Dorian made retching noises. She glanced back with a smile, and caught a small one on Cole.

“I concede!” Dorian cried.

“Yea… I don’t think any of us need you _describing_ Chuckles any more.”

“I believe this might be a conversation best had in private, Thenera.” Solas managed, much pinker than she’d seen him before, and she shot him a wicked smile in response. Later then.


	71. Describing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild NSFW! 
> 
> I had... A lot of fun writing this chapter and I hope you enjoy it.

“Your ears are just… mmm” She murmured against one. “I could kiss them for hours.”

“Thenera.” He shivered against her. “I didn’t mean that you should immediately continue this line of conversation the moment we were alone.”

“Do you want me to stop? Because I can… But I’m not done yet.” She said softly, planting a kiss on his earlobe and drawing back to look in his eyes.

“I…. It would probably be best if you did.”

“I didn’t ask what was best. I asked if you wanted me to stop.” She said, and he swallowed, pulse pounding at his neck.

“No. I do not.” He managed.

“Good.” She trailed kisses across his jawline. “Because I’m also quite fond of your jaw... And your cheekbones are unfair.”

She let her lips follow the trail of her words, and then began running a feather light touch across his back, over the rough fabric of his tunic. 

“The curve of your back, too. And your shoulders. Your arms. Your hands especially, your hands are magnificent Vhenan.” Her hands met one of his, and she clasped it and pulled back to look him in the eyes. They were dark, pupils blown wide and unfocused.

She raised his hand to her lips, kissing each finger carefully, along the pulse point at his wrist, inside his palm. His eyes fluttered shut with the sensation, and she considered.

Just how flustered could she make him before he pulled back? He was in a rare mood tonight, it was he who had instigated their closeness. She didn’t want to scare him off like last time. But the chance to see him helpless and captive was just… Far too tempting. 

She brought a fingertip back to her lips and parted them, swirling her tongue around the tip and watching his expression. A deep rumble sounded from his chest, and she slowly slid the digit into her mouth, watching his fall open in undisguised pleasure. She purred, a small sound of triumph as she gently sucked.

“Emmeara…” He breathed. She slowly pulled his finger from her mouth and moved to kiss his wrist again.

“Vhenan, if you would like, you can let me take over for a little while. You can let go of your control and simply enjoy.”

“That is most certainly not a good idea.” He said, raising his gaze to hers slowly. 

“Tell me where the boundary is for tonight and let me show you it’s ok. A little at a time.”

“It is not much further than that, I am afraid. At least for tonight.”

“Thank you for telling me Vhenan.” She said, blowing cool air across his finger and planting another kiss across the swirling lines of his fingerprint. “May I please remove your tunic? Or is that too much?”

He swallowed, considering, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths that made her want to devour him. But not tonight. Tonight was for careful control. For making good on her promise all those months ago and seeing his indomitable focus dominated.

He nodded, hesitantly, and her lips curled in triumph. Her hands flew to the belt he wore over his tunic and worked the buckle loose, trying to temper her speed. His unfocused gaze met hers warily. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, and carefully laid his belt over his armor, taking a steadying breath.

She turned back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his lips, cupping his face in her hands. She drew them down slowly, touch feather light down his chest and stomach, feeling the heat emanating from him. Her fingers skimmed the hem of the garment and worked their way beneath it, feeling the soft leather of his undershirt. She slowly raised the fabric, running her fingers across the leather, and she watched him shiver. He raised his arms for her, and she worked the roughspun material over his head carefully. 

She looked at him in the beautiful, soft green leather undershirt, creased with wear along the folds of his waist, and she began carefully undoing the toggles that ran along his right side. First along his shoulder, and then steadily, one by one along his ribcage and waist. 

The leather peeled from him, leaving soft skin in its wake, patterns from the skintight garment pressed into it, and she grazed her fingers across them. He shivered against her, gaze unfocused and chest bare. She scratched at the marks, nails scraping over skin that rarely felt touch, or air, and he groaned. Her breathing sped. She always had been a sucker for his voice, and this? 

She bit her lip as she took him in. There wasn’t enough light in their tent to see if he had freckles anywhere else, but the candlelight cast gorgeous shadows across the musculature of his chest and stomach. She mapped the planes and dips with her fingertips, trying to memorize the feel of his skin and every curve possible as she watched. His hands lay lax at his sides, eyes fluttering and rolling back against the onslaught of sensation, shivering occasionally and making more gorgeous noises.

With a start, she realized she was still wearing the clothes she’d worn all day riding.

“Stay right there, my heart.” She told him, and he nodded. She withdrew, watching displeasure and confusion flicker over his face as he opened his eyes in a heavy lidded gaze, and she turned from him. She slowly removed her own tunic, and he made a sound behind her as she exposed the muscles of her back and shoulders that had only gotten stronger as she had. She unwound her breast band, still turned from him, and carefully pulled her nightgown on before pulling her breeches and smalls out from beneath the silvery garment, and she returned to him. His fingers twitched at his side, and she made a soothing sound.

“It’s alright Vhenan. Everything is just fine.” She brought her hand back to cup his face, and he nuzzled against her, tension between his brows disappearing.

“How is it you continue to surprise me so? I have always pictured our roles reversed from this, and yet... “ He let out a contented sigh. “This is... Words seem somewhat inadequate.”

She let out a soft laugh.

“You’ve thought about this? How many fantasies have you had about me?” She teased, placing her other hand over his heart.

“More than I should admit to, perhaps. Though it seems you do not mind?” He said slowly, meeting her gaze with warmth.

“Not at all. I’ve been having my own from the moment we met. And if you’d like to try this the other direction next time, I’m game. Sometimes releasing control is exactly what’s needed.” She said, voice low.

“Yes.” He breathed. 

“And we’re both very used to being in control.” She added.

“That is true.”

“And I can think of far worse things than being at your mercy, Vhenan.” She grinned. His gaze met hers, burning, and he swallowed before his eyes drifted shut again. 

She kissed along his collarbones and up his neck, trailing her fingers along his ribs.

He yelped unexpectedly, twitching away from her touch, and she burst into pealing laughter.

“You're ticklish!” She crowed. 

“I am no such thing.” He returned, defensive. She giggled and worked her fingers back over the sensitive spot, and he swatted them away, twitching, face crinkled in mirth as he tried desperately to stifle a laugh. 

She cackled and began trying again in earnest, and poor Solas was forced to defend himself against her attacks, batting her hands away and wriggling from her grasp as she gleefully pressed her offensive. 

When it became clear Thenera wouldn't be easily dissuaded, he began trying to catch her wrists. Unfortunately for Solas, each time he began to catch hold, she twisted and pulled from his grasp, elusive and continuing to tickle him until finally he managed, pushing her to the floor of the tent and pinning her wrists over her. 

She looked up at him, breathless from laughing, his flush evident even in the low light of the candles and the mark. His eyes sparkled, smile lines deeper than she'd seen them. 

He leaned over her, and the slowly subsiding laugh caught in her throat. He lowered his lips to hers, gentle, brushing against hers lightly, reverently, pressing and moulding them together until the thread of his control snapped and he was pushing against her, tongue pressing against hers, body pressing against hers, devouring. 

She pushed back, hands still caught overhead, sucking his lower lip between her teeth and biting him. He growled above her, repaying her in kind, his teeth sharper than she would have expected, and a startled moan escaped despite her attempts to hold it back. He groaned and rocked against her, free hand moving to her thigh, sliding up the length of the muscles there and grabbing hold of her hip beneath the nightgown.

Her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer with each surge, his hand digging into the soft flesh of her hip to urge her on. He pulled away from the kiss and set his lips and teeth and tongue to her throat, murmuring low in Elvhen between bites and kisses, sending her shivering and moaning against him. She wished desperately that she could understand him, understand the musical sounds his gorgeous voice breathed against her.

His hand moved up, pushing her nightgown as his fingers slid up over her stomach, settling to cup her breast. She gasped, breathing hard against him, the now bare skin of her stomach pressed against his burning hot skin, her core bare, the leather laces of his breeches biting against the swollen flesh in an altogether unfair way. He was impossibly hard beneath them, and her body was begging her to take him in, feeling achingly empty and soaked as he surged against her clit, pinching her nipple with his hand as he bit down on her neck.

And her hands were still trapped in his, grasping at air, nails digging into her palms with each rising sensation as she cried out a litany of moans and gasps as he growled and whispered against her. She took in a shuddering breath.

“Stop.” She managed through a thick throat. Instantly, he froze. She took deep, gulping breaths as he pulled his hand from beneath her nightgown and pulled back slightly, freeing her wrists. As she caught sight of his face, it swam with concern.

“Are you alright, Emmeara?” He asked, voice as rough as hers had been. She nodded. “I was not overstepping, was I?”

“Not for me.” She reassured him quickly, taking another steadying breath, reaching for the right words through the haze of lust. “But you trusted me enough to let go of your control and I don’t want to you to wake up with regrets. I don’t want you to regret anything that happens between us.”

Realization dawned on his face and he sat up, offering his hand to help her sit up as well. Her nightgown settled back over her into some modicum of decency.

“Thank you.” He said simply. “I… Do not want to regret any moment with you. And I never want you to feel as though I have taken advantage of you, someday in the future.”

“Please don’t tell me that your boundaries are for my sake.” She asked, closing her eyes as she steadied her breathing.

“I cannot take advantage of you with so much between us.” He said, sadness tinging his voice.

“We both have secrets, Solas. Are you worried about mine?”

“No. You are my heart, and despite how much I know you keep from me, it would not change my view of you.” He said, offering a reassuring smile.

“Then why won’t you trust me enough to make that same decision about you for myself?”

“There are things you don’t know…”

“There are things you don’t know.” She shot back.

“You may have a point, my heart. I will consider it. But I believe it is quite late now, and we should get some rest.” He paused, turning to cup her cheek gently with one hand. “Thank you for tonight. I cannot remember the last time I felt so light. So happy. You are magnificent, Vhenan.”

She smiled, melting at his words, and he returned a soft smile.

“What were you saying? When you were speaking Elvhen?” She asked him, and he glanced away, looking slightly embarrassed. 

“To be completely honest, I do not remember everything I said. However, I do remember this. Ar sulema u’vun inor dhula. I would give you the stars to scatter in your hair. Ma’lea’vune, emmaera. You are my perfect moonlight, my dream.”

A smile spread across her face as her heart filled to bursting.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

“Ar lath ma.”


	72. Clumsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I just wrote this and realized it should have gone into the actual chapters, so this fits in between chapters 67-68!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/18675916/chapters/45066925

“Josephine! Can I speak with you please?”

“Oh yes Lavellan, of course! I have delivered the new assortment of books on Orlais to your quarters, as requested. We will be practicing dining manners for this evening meal with the advisors. Have you given any thought to who will be attending with you? I believe we will be able to bring a group of seven total. It should be the advisory council, yourself, plus three of your choice. Who would you like to bring?”

“Hmmm. I’m not entirely sure on that front yet beyond Solas. I’ll start thinking about it and get an answer back to you before we leave for the Western Approach. I did want to speak to you about our attire for the event though!”

“I’m afraid with so little time before the event, we will not be able to match the finery of the nobles in attendance. However, we are not Orlesian, and this limitation may be an opportunity in disguise. Perhaps uniforms may be best, to solidify our presence as a military force.”

“I think that is an excellent plan. I’m not sure if you knew this, but I designed and made much of the ceremonial garb for my tribe.”

“Oh! I did not! How fascinating!” She said with the warmth and tact that only Lady Montiliyet could muster.

“I’ve been sketching a few ideas.” She pulled out her sketchbook and began flipping through, showing their diplomatic advisor a few of her favorites. “I do believe uniforms prudent. I think it’s also very important that we design them as a reminder. Perhaps a dark green to symbolize the breach, with silver accents for steel? I also think it would be wise if they were fairly mobile. We are trying to stop an assassination attempt, and it would be smart to design something we can fight in. In fact, I’ve been working on designing some extremely slim fit armor. I’ll talk with Harrit and Dagna about how to put it together, and then we can have the uniform jackets over it, possibly with a magnetic closure to make it easy to get in and out of them. I don’t expect the Orlesians to exactly respond well to bloodspattered clothing, and we’ll need all the goodwill we can get, what with my elfyness and all.”

“Oh my! You have put quite a lot of thought into this. Yes. These sketches are lovely, and quite doable. Let me get you in touch with the tailor. Her name is Alyssa, I will see if she can meet with you to discuss it; perhaps the day after next? And please do speak with Harrit and Dagna. This sounds much easier than attempting to smuggle in your armor in addition to your weapons.”

“Thank you Josie! How long do we have?” 

“Two months.”

“Ok. I appreciate everything. Oh! And dancing lessons!”

“Yes! I was about to recommend such a thing. We can begin this evening. Both Leliana and I have a fair amount of experience and should be able to teach you the basics.”

“Thank you! Dancing then, after dinner.” She offered Josephine a roguish grin.

“We will see you there, Lavellan.” 

“Oh! And can we take care of your family matter after the ball? That way we should still be relatively close. Just duck over to Val Royeaux with a small group and take care of it.”

“Oh! That is so kind of you. Yes. We can certainly do that. Thank you.” Josephine smiled warmly, and Thenera returned the expression before turning away, towards the next responsibility.

She ducked out, and made her way to the Undercroft, where she found a very excited Dagna and a very hesitant Harrit. She explained her idea to them both, Harrit seeming perplexed about the whole thing.

“Oh! That just sounds fascinating!” The dwarf said, watching Thenera pull out her sketchbook and trace over the lines of one of her more detailed sketches.

“And if we run strips of soft leather strategically here, here, and here, movement should be relatively unimpeded. Or bias cut fabric of some type, if we use something strong. We should be able to get a very close fit without compromising strength or movement of the armor. Though I’d like mine to be a little more rigid.” She flipped the page to another sketch, this one showing the same swooping lines, but with a structured, corseted body to it. “We’ll need some spring steel. We can rivet the pieces in through the leather, or create a cloth underlay. It’ll offer more protection this way.” 

“You sure you can fight in that?” Harrit asked incredulously.

“Oh yea. Great support for archery, and should there be an injury, it helps keep pressure on the wound, since there likely won’t be time for more than some light healing during the ball.” She replied.

“This does leave some inconvenient openings where those strips are.” Harrit commented, jabbing at the sketch. 

“Yea…” Thenera agreed, chagrined. “But that's the price for the movement.”

“Man, I wish we had some dragon hide. This would be awesome in dragon hide!”

“I’ll see what I can do about that for you, Dagna.”

“Oooh reallly? Think you’ll fight a dragon soon! That sounds amazing!” A smile lit her face and then she took on an apologetic stance. “I mean, terrifying. But amazing too!”

“I think it’s entirely possible! Bull has been itching to every time we see one. I think we might finally be ready.”

“And isn’t Cassandra from a line of dragon hunters?”

“She is!” Thenera agreed. Dagna’s excitement was infectious.

“I would love to study them if you get the chance! Bring something back for me!”

“Will do, Dagna. I can start making patterns if that’s helpful, if you want to figure out what kind of enchantments will work best. I guess I gotta decide who is coming with me to Halamshiral.”

“That would probably be a good first step.” She commented cheerfully. “And patterns would be good! If you can put together something that fits well it’ll make fabrication way faster!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Thenera answered the dwarf, and turned to leave.

The evening’s etiquette dinner in the tavern went just fine, though Cullen was surly through it. Josie and Leliana teased him, and he excused himself quickly after, before dancing could begin. 

“Commander, a word before you slip away please.” She said, catching him by the doorway.

“You won’t attempt to make me dance, will you?” He asked, quashing a look of panic.

“I wouldn’t be so cruel.” She reassured him with a smile, and he relaxed visibly. “Just wanted to check and see how you’re doing, since I’ve been gone for a couple weeks.”

“Thank you. I do seem to be doing a fair amount better.” He said, returning the reassuring smile. 

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better, or do you mean it?” She asked, quirking a brow at him.

“I have been faring alright on my own. I do appreciate your concern though.” He said, raking his hand through his hair. She looked at him assessingly, wondering if he was downplaying things, and he shrank from her gaze. She nodded, deciding not to push it, and he escaped.

She turned back to Leliana and Josephine, and took her position. She had invited Solas, but he demurred, saying he thought it quite unlikely he would be accepted to one of the fancy dinners, or the dancing. Leliana instructed as she waltzed with Josie, and as she lead the ambassador in a turn, she caught him watching from a balcony in the tavern with the others. Her step fumbled, and she nearly toppled both of them, barely managing to catch her, twisting into an awkward lunge to keep her balance before righting them both.

“Ack! Sorry Josie, that was graceful of me. Are you ok?” She grimaced, looking over Josephine to make sure she hadn’t sprained anything due to the elf’s misstep.

“It’s quite alright Lavellan, I assure you I’ve had worse dance partners.” She replied with her usual aplomb. 

“Inquisitor, you stepped diagonal instead of straight, giving her an unclear signal to follow.” Leliana corrected.

“I know. Let’s try it again.” She made eye contact with the gorgeous Antivan for just a moment before correcting herself and looking over her shoulder, and taking the first step forward, careful to lead with her body so Josephine would get a clear signal of where she should move. It was an unfamiliar set of movements, made more unfamiliar by leading, but that was what she needed to learn. After an hour or so, things were beginning to smooth out, and parts were sore that she didn’t even realize she had. And then Leliana stepped in to lead, and Thenera spent another hour practicing following.

By the end she was thoroughly sore. She sat and ate another, much more relaxed meal with The Chargers, catching Solas’ eye and quirking a brow with a head tilt for invitation. He joined, and they ate and joked, Solas throwing in a wry comment now and then. She noted with a start that Dalish looked like perhaps they could be related, right down to a similar hairstyle, though Thenera’s had grown out a fair bit, and she’d taken to braiding it on the road. Or maybe not all that similar, beyond the high cheekbones and full lips. Colors were light, but not quite right. 

“That’d make me an apostate!” Dalish cried in defense.

“Well I clearly hate those.” Thenera responded, sarcasm dripping from the words as she cast a meaningful glance at Solas, whose eyes crinkled in response.

“You carry a staff, Dalish.” Bull responded with a smile.

“It’s a bow.”

“A bow with a giant glowing crystal at the tip?” Krem said, chagrined, clearly not the first time they’d had this conversation.

“Yes, it’s for aiming. Old Elven trick. You wouldn’t understand.” She sniffed, waving a hand dramatically, and Thenera bit back a grin, and the urge to call her out as a wandering Keeper. 

“Oh? It’s not a technique I’ve seen. Can you teach me?” Thenera asked, quirking a brow.

“I have seen glimmers of such a technique in the Fade, Thenera.” Solas added helpfully.

“Oh? Very old then. Sounds… Magical.” She said, widening her eyes dramatically.

“I’ve heard you don’t need any help with your aim, your Worship.” Dalish evaded, true to her Vallaslin, as the lines of Dirthamen curled with her exaggerated expressions. 

“Augh, please don’t call me that. Lavellan is fine. Or even Thenera.” She waved off the hated title, matching a hand motion.

“Sounds good Lavellan.” Dalish said with a grin, and winked before she took a drink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the sketches of the armor she shows Dagna and Harrit!
> 
>   
>  <https://dirthenera.tumblr.com/post/185162411341/uhhh-this-doesnt-mean-anything-to-anyone-outside>   
> 
> 
> And here's some of the Halamshiral replacement outfit sketch ideas!
> 
>   
>  <https://dirthenera.tumblr.com/post/184614993786/ive-been-doing-some-very-rough-sketches-for>   
> 
> 
> Also. I saw a very interesting post about Wandering Keepers, and immediately accepted it as a headcanon, so that's what I'm referring to in this chapter.
> 
>   
>  <https://dirthenera.tumblr.com/post/185031140111/a-really-bad-decision-charamei-some-more>   
> 
> 
> Who do you guys think she should take to Halamshiral? Thematically, Vivienne and Varric would be good, but that's a rough fighting party with two rogues and two mages. Bull and Cole would make for a strong party, but... not really Orlais appropriate. Or the 'Fuck you Orlais' party of Sera and Bull? I dunno. Gonna have to figure it out soon. 


	73. Ma'fen

“May I touch?” She asked, turning her face towards Solas. She raised her fingers, pausing just shy, waiting for his word. The cider had dulled the ache of her muscles, and the room felt soft and pleasant, veilfire and candles crackling as the ravens cooed and fluttered overhead. 

“You may.” 

“It won’t damage the paint?” 

“It might make a difference in a hundred years or so.”

“Then I won’t. Your work should last much much longer than that.” She ghosted her fingers over the plaster, not quite touching as she traced the lines. Wolves. Hilarious. She kinda couldn’t believe she had missed it the first time, the statues, the paintings, the necklace. She hid her smirk, keeping her face turned towards the wall. “You have an affinity for wolves, Vhenan.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, they led you back to me, Emmeara.” He countered smoothly.

“May I call you Ma’fen?” She asked, turning to face him with a smile. He quickly smoothed the surprised expression from his face, crossing his arms behind his back and moving closer.  
.  
“Only if you continue to allow me to call you Ma’lea’vune.” He answered. 

“Then it’s a deal, Ma’fen.” She said, shooting him a lopsided smile and pulling him to the couch. 

The couch of the rotunda was huge. Easily large enough to sleep on, not that she had fallen asleep there several times or anything. They sat, and she graciously allowed Solas to claim the corner, and she folded her legs beneath herself as she sat beside him. 

“I find myself consistently struck by your grace, Vhenan.” Solas murmured, pulling her back against his chest. Her body buzzed pleasantly with cider, easing into the nice sort of sore that felt like accomplishment, though she was dreading the stairs up to her quarters. She wondered, idly, if she fell asleep here again, if he would carry her up the stairs again. 

“Sweet talker.” She returned. “I stepped on poor Josie’s feet.”

“Only because I distracted you.” He continued, mirth in his voice.

“Well I never claimed to have indomitable focus.” She smiled, twisting in his arms to look up to his face. “Will you practice dancing with me?”

“Perhaps.” He answered. “Though I fear I am quite abysmal at following.” 

“Good thing I can do both then.”

“Tell me, will you wear the dress you made for our last visit to Orlais? Assuming it survived the attack on Haven” He said, an edge to his voice that he layered calm over. She searched his eyes, and a flush rose under her scrutiny, his ears turning adorably pink.

“It did. I made sure it did. You liked that dress?” She asked, a slow grin spreading over her face.

“You looked positively radiant in it, Emmeara.” He said, voice husky. 

“You wouldn’t even tell me I was pretty!”

“I was… Attempting not to admit it to myself. I hope you will allow me the chance to rectify that oversight some day. A masked ball does seem a potential opportunity.”

She offered him a sheepish look.

“Sadly, no. Anything we wear that night will most likely end up splattered in blood. I’m going to be meeting with the tailor tomorrow to discuss uniforms, and I’ve already talked to Harrit and Dagna about some close fitting armor to wear beneath.”

“Ah. I see. Is that what those sketches were for? I suppose it makes sense, with our mission to prevent an assassination.”

“Yea. That’s what those sketches are for. The ones the tailor would come up with on her own are tragic.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste, and Solas laughed.

“The fate of an empire, and you worry about fashion.”

“An assassination attempt is nothing compared to that travesty. Besides, I’m the one who gets to choose who rules Orlais when the dust settles.” She said quietly. He turned a sharp gaze to her, and she shrugged.

“There are a surprising number of options.” She added.

“Where do your dreams end, Emmeara? Or do they continue as we do?”

“There’s a point I haven’t seen past, and I promise I will tell you someday, Vhenan. I’ll tell you everything I’ve seen. Before it happens. But I can’t yet. I hope you can trust me.” She chewed her lip, looking into his eyes, and she watched him search her gaze.

“Would you tell me before ill could befall me?”

“Yes.” She answered without hesitation, and he nodded, pulling her closer, into his lap. She let out a breath, releasing the tension in her body, and leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he enveloped her in his.

“I trust you, Thenera.”


	74. The Acerbic Tailor

“I had been thinking red. Red is strong.” Alyssa said, pacing, and Thenera winced apologetically.

“That's true, it is. But red with my coloring?” She joked. The redhead human chewed her lip, biting the scar that ran across it that matched her bite. 

“No. You're right. I'm just grumpy about it. A little mad I didn't think of it first. Green for the breach? Subtle. I like it.” She glanced at Thenera, bright blue eyes sharp.

“What do you think of the sketches?” Thenera asked, and Alyssa skimmed them.

“This one won't work. Too much tailoring, and we'd need to have another layer of finery under it. We don't have enough time to be doubling my work.” She flipped to the next sketch, surveying with a critical eye. “This one looks too Ferelden. And what's with the leaf motif?” 

Thenera shrugged.

“Well. I am a Dalish savage, didn't you know?” She kept trying to lighten the mood, but the redhead’s face remained critical.

Alyssa rolled her eyes.

“In that case. One of these two. They’re a little more non traditional. This one would probably be easier, but I think I like this one better.” She pointed out the one that was probably Thenera’s favorite, an asymmetrically cut jacket with a mandarin collar, a cape covering one arm, and silver lace detailing.

“Oh good, me too. Can you add an extra two inches of ease for the armor under?” She asked.

“Two inches? You sure that’s gonna be enough?”

“Should be, with the usual 4 inches for jackets.” 

“Hmm. You sure you can get the armor to fit that close?” Alyssa tilted her head, curls wild and shifting, and gave her an incredulous look.

Thenera’s eyes glazed over as she thought about Solas in skintight leather armor.

“I think we can make that work.” She said carefully, trying to school the lecherous smile from her face. Alyssa’s mien flickered to annoyance.

“Focus Inquisitor. Geez. Everyone talks about how commanding and noble you are. And now I learn you’re just some pervert.”

“You clearly haven’t talked to Bull or Sera much.”

“They’re a little loud for my tastes.” 

She looked Alyssa up and down. She was gorgeous, thick with ample curves and sun kissed skin, covered in freckles.

“What are your tastes?” Thenera asked, and the redhead’s expression turned disdainful, freckles moving as her nose crinkled.

“Do you proposition everyone in your employ, Inquisitor?” Her shoulders squared and she turned to face Thenera, a deadly look on her face. Thenera winced.

“Oh, no. I’m spoken for. But I know a certain Commander who is very single.” She quickly backtracked, taking a half step back to make sure she wasn’t crowding the tailor, and kept her tone light.

“Oh! Well that’s a bit different.” She said, face relaxing slightly, though she remained guarded.

“Yea sorry, my lechery is mostly reserved for my apostate nerd.” She offered an apologetic smile.

Alyssa wrinkled her nose.

“Elves. And to answer your question, I’m more into clothing than people.” She said crisply, seeming to expect some sort of rebuttal.

“Ah ok. Well thanks. I miss cute clothes.”

“Why?” She asked, tilting her head as she searched Thenera’s face.

“Blood, tears, and stains. I try not to wear anything I’m too attached to, at least not in the field.” 

“Well. I think I might be able to help. Not with the blood sweat and tears, but at least a couple things to wear around Skyhold. Tell me what you like, and I’ll see if there’s time.”

“Thank you. I'm sorry if I made things awkward.” 

Alyssa waved her off.

“Let's talk colors.”


	75. The Bet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally a prompt from Buttsonthebeach! And then I realized it really needed to be a chapter, so here ya go.
> 
> Mild NSFW in this! But mild. Sorry.

“Want to bet on it, Solas?” She purred.

“That hardly seems fair.” He replied, giving her a knowing look.

“And if I promise no prior knowledge?” She asked, spreading her hands in innocence. It was true, she had no idea which of them would win this.

“The stakes?” He queried.

“A kiss.” She replied, mischievous smirk on her face. He contemplated for a moment, and he returned a slow, small, feral smile.

“I suppose that is amenable.”

“Oh? Amenable is it?” She teased, quirking a brow at him.

“I suppose.” He answered, calm belied by the rumble in his voice.

“Well then. Shall we?” She asked, offering him her arm. He took it with aplomb, and they made their way to the tavern.

They picked a spot a few tables from their targets, and Thenera ordered a cider, while Solas kept with his usual water. Blackwall and Sera were drinking, having a merry time, and she paused to ask the bartender how many drinks each were at.

“Four apiece, they seem to be drinking in stride tonight.” Cabot answered, and returned shortly with their order.

“Blackwall has nearly a hundred pounds on Sera.” Solas said, beginning to gain interest in their bet.

“He’s also been rationing booze in the woods for years.” She shot back, voice low and amused.

“He has not since joining the Inquisition, of that I can assure you.” Solas returned, giving her an extremely assured look that would probably be annoying from anyone else.

“Have you not noticed Sera’s tolerance then?” She ribbed.

“I’ll admit Sera is unusual.” He said, tilting his head as he glanced at her.

“She can also put away an insane amount of food.” Thenera said, noting the look and filing it away. Was Sera something special?

“Hmm. That much is true.” He agreed.

“Let’s order dinner while we wait. It could be a while.” She said, realizing with a start that she hadn’t eaten since morning.

“Or we could simply come back tomorrow and ask Cabot.” Solas suggested. He never did enjoy spending too much time in the tavern.

“I intend to claim my victory tonight.” She informed him.

“Is that so?” His lips curled in the warm light of the tavern, and she felt her whole body heat.

“It is.” She replied, meeting his smirk with her own.

Kissing Solas was never just a kiss.

“Unless you’d like to forfeit now?” His voice dropped low, sending a shiver over her neck she struggled to contain.

Tempting. Very, very tempting.

“I’ll consider it after we eat.” She countered.

“I happen to have something more edible than this in my quarters.” He answered.

She had never actually been to his quarters, and she bit her lip.

“Will I still get to see your quarters if I refuse?”

“Perhaps someday, my heart.” He answered.

“Dread Wolf take me, you don’t play fair.” She muttered, heat creeping deeper. And now, she would have to decide which was more important to her, her pride and stubbornness, or the desire burning into her. To have a kiss claimed in his space, instead of hers.

“And I never said I did. Then you relent?” He asked, gazing into her eyes with an unfair intensity, stormclouds roiling, and she couldn’t help the smile that refused to drop from her lips. She chewed one, grumbling, which probably didn’t have the effect she wanted, what with the smile still fixed there.

Traitorous face.

She glanced back to Sera and Blackwall, where Sera was in the middle of a very loud, very animated story about something. Probably something inappropriate based on Blackwall’s guffaws.

“Well, my heart? Will you relent?” Solas voice pulled her back, a ragged edge behind the velvet that short circuited rational thought. She swallowed and rose.

“I relent.” She said, letting her pride take the hit for the promises of things to come.

A predatory smile flickered across his face before schooling himself back to a calm mask, and he rose, offering his arm. She slid her hand through the crook of his elbow, gently caressing his arm as her fingers passed through and settled on his wrist.

He glanced at her before setting off, out of the tavern. They wound their way through Skyhold, back out to the battlements, and up to the line of rooms she had so rarely explored. He opened the door to one of them and bowed slightly, waving her through.

“Why thank you. How kind.” Thenera purred, enjoying the game. Solas smiled in response, closing the door behind him as he slipped past her.

The room wasn’t large. Just a bed barely large enough for two to fit, a desk that looked much like his desk in the rotunda, a chair, and a couple of chests for personal effects. The room looked less like him than the rotunda did.

“I do not spend much time here.” Solas offered, answering her unasked question. He knelt in front of one of the chests and opened it, pulling a loaf of bread and a small wheel of cheese from inside, and a ceramic container of some kind.

“Why not?” She asked.

“Well there is this rather strange elf who keeps falling asleep on my couch, forcing me to carry her up ‘five hundred flights of stairs’ to her own bed.” He answered. She was never going to live that exaggeration down.

“Well then. Ir abelas banal.” She replied loftily, and sat on the bed with a smile. His own good natured smile met hers, and he spread a cloth on the bed, pulling a small knife for the cheese and two spoons from chest before settling across from her.

She quirked a brow at the spoons, and watched as he placed the ceramic in the center of the cloth, and closed his eyes. She felt his magic, a bare whisper of it in the room, and after a moment, he opened his eyes and removed the lid. Steam billowed out, and her mouth watered at the smell of nug stew. Solas was such a picky eater, his cooking had always been amazing.

He chuckled as he took in her expression, and she fell to the food. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until she smelled it, and she did a happy wiggle as she took the first delicious bite. They didn’t speak much as they ate.

Quickly, it disappeared, and Solas cleared the cloth from the bed, rising to place it back in the chest.

“Now, Vhenan. I believe you owe me a kiss.” He stood, arms tucked behind his back, victorious and proud. Her eyes flickered over him, and she licked her lips.

“I suppose I do.” She moved to the edge of the bed, resting on her knees, and she flicked a gaze up at him from beneath her lashes. “Tell me, my heart, where exactly you’d like this kiss?”

His breath hitched, just for a moment before he let out a surprised laugh.

“Thenera.” He chided, gaze too hot for her to believe his admonishment. “I believe, as winner, I’m allowed to dictate where _I_ will be kissing _you_.”

She fought back a shiver at those words.

“We would fight over who gets to please the other.” She murmured. He dipped his head in a nod.

“And today, I have won.” He said, voice sliding over her. She did shiver then.

“I find myself not minding terribly. Where will you claim your victory, Vhenan?”

“Where are your boundaries for this evening?”

“Don’t kiss my feet. They’re gross from the day and I might kick you.”

“Is that all?”

“That’s all.”

“Hmm. Then I shall need to consider carefully. That was going to be my first choice.” He answered wryly, flicking an assessing gaze over her.

“Oh? So the great Varric Tethras was right? Our resident Fade expert has a foot fetish?”

He glared halfheartedly before his expression became contemplative.

“Truly, there is nowhere else that would make you uncomfortable?”

“Solas. I have wanted you for half a year. I want you to touch me. I want you to kiss me. I want whatever you are comfortable with, and no more. Well, there are parts of me that want more but more of me that adamantly doesn’t.”

“Emmaera, ar lasa galanor.” He murmured, running his hand along her jawline and tipping her face up, towards him. Her eyes glazed over at his voice, his beautiful, rich voice speaking Elvhen to her.

“Hmm?” She asked, throat suddenly thick.

“My dream, you are magnificent.” He translated, and she melted against his hand, cupping her face ardently. “Now. Where shall I claim my kiss?”

“Where do you want to kiss me?” She asked.

“Everywhere.” He confessed. Her breath caught. He leaned in, stopping just shy of their lips meeting, his gaze burning into hers, just a moment before it dropped to her lips.

“Here.” He murmured. The hand that had been cupping her face slid down to her shoulder. “Here.”

He pushed her gently, and she followed, laying back on the bed as he climbed over her. He dipped his head to her ear.

“Here, often.” He murmured, within the sphere of her aura without actually touching. She shivered beneath him, feeling too much and not enough.

He ran his hand down her sternum, brushing his fingers across her tunic.

“Here, over your heart.” He traced his fingers lower, over her ribs and stomach, and she struggled to stay still as her body sang. Her eyes fluttered shut as they brushed across her hip bones, and she hissed in a sharp breath.

His hand stilled, caught in hesitation.

“Here. And more. Far too much.” He continued, his voice low, starting to be consumed by regret. He pulled back, meeting her gaze. “I want much, much more than I should.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?” She answered, the challenge clear. His lips curled into a small smile.

“Thenera. If you had your way, we would be sending for rations for a week.”

“Well. Yes. But only if you wanted.”

“What I want…”

“What do you want, Solas? You have won a victory. I gave you my boundaries. What do you want?”

A pained noise escaped that somehow managed to sound somewhere between a whimper and a growl.

His hesitation broke like a tidal wave. His hands hooked her breeches and worked them low on her hips, pushing her tunic out of the way as he lowered his mouth to her hip, delving his tongue across the sensitive skin that wasn’t quite the sensitive skin she had hoped for, and she cried out, a deep, guttural moan that only seemed to spur him forward. He nipped and sucked, and she arched into him, his hands sliding around to cup her ass closer.

He released the purpling skin with a wet sound, and looked up, into her eyes, and his were bottomless pits of desire. She whimpered.

“Someday, I will give in, Emmeara. Not entirely, but more. The temptation to hear you cry out, to hear you beg, to feel you writhe in pleasure and at my mercy is just too much. Will you allow me to do such a thing?”

She shuddered against his words, eyes rolling back as she let out an involuntary sound, and swallowed, trying to bring back the words that had fled with his talented tongue.

“Yes.” She breathed. “Please.”


	76. Gardening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One important note! Witherstalk, canonically, is used as a contraceptive! It has to be while the sap is fresh, it loses potency pretty quickly after it's harvested. 
> 
> I didn't have a good way to work that in mid chapter, sorry!

It took a week to prepare everything needed for such a long journey. They would be going through Emprise du Lion on the way, and they would be traveling with a large group; nearly the entire inner circle. Extreme weather clothes would be needed in both directions, and they were going to have to fight a dragon. If there was time, the Oasis. Thenera spent some time in the garden, preparing beds for the seeds she planned to collect, between all her other duties. 

Solas found her as she was pruning the roses, arms covered in angry scratches between the end of the gloves and the beginning of the ratty tunic she wore, one of the ones that had been ruined and patched several times with careless stitches, more concerned with function than form. Her wide brimmed hat sheltered her from his approach.

“I see you’ve made your peace with roses, my heart.”

“Well they are my favorite.”

“Is this not the work for the gardener?”

“You know how good I am at sitting still. Besides, I need to prep space for new beds, witherstalk especially.” She glanced up at him, wanting to gauge his reaction. His eyes widened, and he tilted his head.

“Witherstalk? Do we require such a thing?” He asked, guarded, knowing exactly what Witherstalk was most used for. 

“Whether or not I personally do, we’re now home to hundreds of women. Women who should have the choice of whether or not they want to have children.” She said, and he relaxed visibly. “I’m only sad it’s going to be, what, about a month? Before we can get back and plant it. Maybe I can see if Scout Harding can help speed the process. I’m just grateful it grows quickly. I want anyone who would like to, to have access. So it might need a fairly large bed. If I remember correctly, it’s pretty rare. It likes sandy soil, full sun, and heat.”

“You are correct. It also requires very little water, and the sap loses potency if given too much.”

“Ooooh. I hadn’t realized what an herbalist you are. Talk herby to me.” She shot him a wicked grin before turning back to the roses, cutting the dead canes away from the budding ones and earning more scratches. She realized she should probably take up a hobby someday that wasn’t so hard on the hands. Then again, she was only going to have two of them useable for another couple years, so she might as well get the most out of them.

“You are incorrigible, Vhenan.” He answered, a smile on his face as he crouched beside her.

“You keep saying that, but I think you like it.” She quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled.

“Very well, Emmeara, what would you have me teach you?”

“You’ve mentioned herbs for dreaming before, can you tell me what those are?”

“Ah. Yes. I certainly can. The mix has a few elements that are interchangeable depending on the experience you wish to gain. However, the base is usually Felandaris.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? Wouldn’t that give you nightmares?” She paused in her task, turning towards him to listen.

“Yes. But it is excellent for establishing a stronger link to the Fade. Which is why the other herbs are necessary to temper the effects. Deathroot in very careful amounts can be added to speed the journey, if sleep is elusive, and Embrium, Elfroot and Arbor Blessing may help counter the negative effects of the Felandaris, though Spindleweed is the most efficient. If the mixture must be enhanced, if the user is a weak mage, then Deep Mushroom may be added.”

“Really? Deep Mushroom? Would that work for a non mage too?”

“Perhaps, though I have not attempted such a thing. It grows near lyrium, and as such contains some of the properties of the mineral, if used properly. I personally prefer a mix of Felandaris, Embrium, and Spindleweed; though I rarely require it. They must be burned, and the smoke inhaled. Fresh requires half as much as dried.”

“Fascinating.”

“Who will you bring to Halamshiral?” He asked, with that wonderful head tilt. She turned back to the roses with a smile on her face.

“You, Varric, and Bull.” She answered decisively, snipping away one of the final dead canes on this bush. 

“Are you certain the Iron Bull is the best choice?”

“It's either him or Cassandra, and Cassandra hates those kinds of things. Besides, Bull will make the Orlesians just a little uncomfortable, and I kinda like that idea.” 

“Oh?” He quirked a brow, a mirror of her usual expression, and she grinned in return.

“Only reason I'm going to allow you to wear that horrible helm; not that they’ll understand. Though I might insist you take it off to dance with me.”

His eyes crinkled in mirth.

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

“How magnanimous, my heart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with the meta herbalism in this chapter!


	77. Arbor Blessing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for this chapter-mention of sexual assault. Not too much detail. Sorry!

Green mist swirled around her as she walked down a familiar path, towards the cheerful glow of a campfire. She smiled as she saw Ashataralyn, with silver hair tinged lilac and green eyes just a shade from hers, making them look nearly like sisters, sweetness and naivety creating contrast against Thenera’s sharpness. Ash was her nas’taron, her twin soul. She could feel the heat from the fire as she reached it, and reached out to wrap her First in an embrace.

“The best news Thenera! I’m to be bonded!” She exclaimed, bright as always, lightning dancing on her fingertips with happiness. The dark green swirls of Ghilain’nan flickered with the firelight, a new meaning revealed since the last time she had seen her clan, and her gut twisted at the idea of her sweet silver halla being bound to a monster who made other monsters. But that was not for now.

“Really?” Thenera exclaimed, clasping her hands in her own.

“Yes! Oh it’s such good news. And I even think you know him!” She stepped to the side, and an Elven man with greasy black hair stepped forward, large and looming. Thenera felt her heart speed as her stomach sank.

“You can’t, Ash.” She recoiled, tasting bile. “Anyone would be better than him. You can’t. No one should be with this monster, least of all you. You deserve so much better.”

“It’s ok, ‘Nera! He’s really sweet. He’ll never do to me what he did to you.” Lavellan’s first answered, an unperturbed smile on her face as her eyes slid closed with contentment, so at odds with the adrenaline pounding through her veins.

“Thenera, it is time to wake.” A voice pierced her dream, and she stumbled back, into the tent where she lay curled tightly around herself, blankets pulled over her ears. The dream drifted away, until all she could remember was Ashataralyn’s sweet face she had gone far too long without seeing.

“Nnnngh.” She grumbled, and she saw the steam from her breath plume out into the freezing air.

“It is already quite late.” Solas continued. She needed to go back, needed to see her nas’taron’s face again. There was unfinished business, but what was it? If only she could remember, she could go back to that moment, go back to it and try to fix… whatever had happened.

“But it's so cold outside and so warm in here.” She protested. “And I was enjoying the Fade.”

“You were?” His head tilted, searching her bleary eyes quizzically.

“Yea. I woke up about an hour ago, too cold to get out of the bedroll. Come snuggle me and we can go back.” She yawned, burrowing further under the blankets.

“You are temptation itself, Vhenan.”

“Then you relent?”

He sighed, waved his hand, and a glowing red rune appeared beneath her bedroll, warming it.

“Not today.” He offered her a small smile before exiting the tent.

She grumbled further, curling into the blankets until they became too hot. Petulantly, she kicked them off and began getting ready for the day.

Emprise Du Lion. Full of red lyrium, red templars, a ‘choice spirit,’ a bunch of dragons, and Elvhen ruins…

And oh so many statues to Feh’Harel. That would be interesting.

She finished donning her armor, including extra layers to ward off the cold, and she braced herself to leave the tent.

“Oi. This here? It’s rubbish.” Sera rubbed her arms at the cold, scowling as her breath puffed out into the air.

“Normally I would not be agreeing with our charming miscreant here, but why would anyone choose to live here? The South is such a trial.” Dorian said dramatically.

“Ah yes. If you were in your homeland, you would undoubtedly be waited on hand and foot at this very moment by your slaves.” Solas returned, looking unfairly unperturbed by the cold. Rude.

“I’ll have you know I own no one. And nothing. I was disowned, remember?”

“We should be moving on, now that the Inquisitor is awake.” Cassandra barked, clearly on the verge of one of her disgusted grunts.

“Yea Glowy, how did you sleep? You and Chuckles seemed to need some extra rest this morning.” Varric teased.

Cassandra did let out a disgusted grunt then, though it seemed that perhaps there was a slight flush on her cheeks. Aww. Hopeless romantic indeed.

“If I told you, would you be writing it in the book?” Thenera answered, quirking a brow at the dwarf as she settled next to Solas by the fire, who kept his face impassive at Varric’s goading.

“Probably.” He answered, offering her a steaming cup.

“Then… Use your imagination.” Thenera winked, and took the mug. Steam wreathed up with the smell of rich coffee, and she clung to the vessel like a lifeline as she breathed in the scent. Solas handed her a hunk of bread, one of the only days they would be eating real bread as opposed to hardtack, and she took it gratefully, huddling into her mug and scarf between bites.

She had brought a big group, but there was just too much to do, too far from Skyhold, that too many different people needed to be a part of. There were warden things for Blackwall, Seeker things for Cassandra, Venatori things for Dorian, a dragon for Bull, sooooooo much red lyrium, and she always loved Cole’s insight. And there was no way she was leaving for at least a month without Solas.

She had brought Sera just for funsies, and because she was bound to get into a lot of trouble if left at Skyhold without either Bull or Blackwall to keep her company. Maybe she should have brought Vivienne too, just for a whole damn group. Oh well. Too late now. And the enchantress seemed perfectly content to use the Inquisition resources without being quite so hands on.

They made their way through Sahrnia, and quelled the urge to roll her eyes at Michel de Chevin, right in his half elf racist face. They would take care of Imshael. Not like he had anything of any real interest to offer, anyways.

She readied her bow as they made their way up the hill, red lyrium everywhere making her itch as the miasma reached her.

“More red lyrium.” Varric commented with a sigh. “Shit.”

“Agreed. I have a feeling it’s gonna get worse before it gets better, too.” Thenera offered a mirthless smile.

“Shit. Is this one of your feelings that’s almost uncannily right?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Well I’m not gonna take the bet this time, Glowy.”

They fell silent as they heard the clank of armor ahead, and the sounds of soldiers talking. Thenera lowered her voice.

“Ok. Let’s get all our long distance fighters to coordinate first, and melee can go in once the first volley has fired.” She whispered. They crept to the outcropping, and each picked a different target. Five combatants total. Two archers, two templars with shields, and one two hand weapon user. They lined up the first volley, and let fly. Both archers dropped, along with one of the shielded templars, and the fighters rushed in to keep them from retaliating against the much squishier ranged fighters. Honestly, with so many, it wasn’t much of a fight. It was over fast.

They established the location for another camp, and worked their way through the tunnels, pulsing and glowing eerily at each turn, the whispering making it harder to tell where their enemies would be. Luckily, she knew. And she knew what else waited when they finished the first group of lyrium soaked combatants in the caverns.

She saw the shrine and smiled. Fen’Harel, with offerings of incense and flowers. She lay her bow down carefully and pulled a clump of Arbor Blessing from her bag and placed it on the shrine. She patted the base of the statue, too tall to reach its head, and turned to continue.

“Uh. Glowy?”

“Yea Longshot?”

“Have I told you that you’re weird recently? Like. Even for an elf.”

“Is that odd? I thought that was simply usual savage elf behavior.” Dorian mused. “She was doing such things all through the Exalted Plains.”

“Dirthavaren, if you don’t mind.” She replied mildly.

“Ugh, elfy shite.” Sera added helpfully.

“I would not have expected such a thing, Lethallin.” Solas tilted his head.

“Well I am, in fact, a strange one.”

“Yea, but don’t the Dalish hate Fen’Harel?” Varric asked. She offered him a halfhearted smile and turned back to the shrine. She’d figured out a long time ago exactly what story she wanted to tell if she was ever questioned about this, because _when_ was more likely than _if_. It wasn’t even a lie, it just…

She took a deep breath. It was time to talk about it. At least pretty much everyone was here, so she wouldn’t have to tell it multiple times. How dare this bastard be one of the ones who echoed across worlds. How dare this parallel remain.

“We build statues of him to guard our clans. I was once in the ‘Fen’Harel is the worst’ camp… But I realized that I was being unfair.’ She let out another breath, putting up a barrier even as she let the armor slip. “You see, when I was fifteen, about a year before I got my Vallaslin, I got involved with someone in Clan Ghimyean, the clan I was born to. He was the first’s son, a few years older than me, bitter that he hadn’t become a mage. Power hungry and manipulative and proud of it. He wore Dirthamen’s Vallaslin. He… Manipulated me. For years. Abused me in several unpleasant ways. He would tell me he was much like the Dread Wolf. He would have taken his Vallaslin if it was possible.”

She glanced back. Solas looked murderous, though he was covering it pretty well. Everyone else had varying levels of shock and disgust and anger, save one. Cole drifted closer, eyes wide and haunted, feeling her pain. She offered him a reassuring smile he didn’t return.

“That doesn’t exactly explain the flowers and fondness.” Varric noted.

“I’m getting there.” She answered, and Cole’s hat dipped in encouragement. She turned back to the shrine, fingers worrying at stone ledges, scent of incense filling her nose with each gulp of air untainted by red lyrium. She looked up at the wolf’s carved face. “We were supposed to be bonded, though my family was not especially pleased. After I’d had enough, and left him, he took deathroot when we were on a hunting trip together, to force me to take care of him. He raped me.”

“Murder? Yea?” Sera interrupted. Thenera shot a mirthless smile over her shoulder.

“And that’s not the end of it. My family was forced out of the clan after I stood up for myself against him, I actually kicked him in the face and broke his nose, and he had us expelled for it.”

“Good for you.” Cassandra said, daggers in her gaze.

“Thanks. We were lucky Lavellan was nearby and willing to take us. There were years of bitterness. Years I couldn’t listen to any of the stories about Fen’Harel. But when I finally could, I realized something. The Dread Wolf has never been as monstrous as _he_ was. Fen’Harel may have twisted the truth, but he never lied. He exacted a price, but fulfilled his promises. I realized that I had been unfair in associating the two. It may seem silly, but I built a bond with the idea of Fen’Harel, thinking that he must hate when mortal elves do things like that. Since then, I leave flowers.”

Solas’ jaw worked. “I believe you might be correct.”

“Darling, and here I thought I had the best tragic backstory!”

“Sorry about that. It’s been a long time now, but some things don’t quite heal, you know?”

“Yes. The past has a way of haunting us all.” Blackwall added.

“I can find him and kill him for ya, yea? Or find him and you can kill him? Oh! Or cut off his man parts. That’d serve him right. Be right funny too.”

“Thanks Sera, but I’d rather never see his face again.”

The group shot each other some awkward looks, and Thenera sighed, putting her metaphorical armor back on.

“Alright, let’s go kill some more Red Templars. I’m sure there’s plenty up around the next bend or two, and I am so ready to kill some stuff.” She said, and sounds of assent rose from behind her as she led the way from the shrine, leaving one last trailing touch across the statue of her heart's other side.


	78. Prettiest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. I'm super over this part so I'm gonna upload the next chapter after this one! Again-trigger warning, this chapter is the private discussion with Solas. Hopefully the last time I need to give this warning!

“That's why you haven't pushed.” Solas said, casting a sound barrier as soon as they retired for the evening, at the camp at the end of the tunnels. It felt too close to the red lyrium, still, though most of it had been destroyed. And now, for the first time, their bedrolls were set up next to each other, their usual aisle of effects placed around the perimeter of the tent. 

She smiled sadly, the most she could muster after a day of blood, blighted lyrium, and exposing herself like that. 

Emprise was unlikely to get many smiles.

“Yea. I don't think I could live with myself if I put someone else through that. Especially someone I love. I’m pretty sure I could have talked you into it by now, or touched you the right way… But I don't want that. I only want what you enthusiastically want to share with me.” She sat, unbraiding her hair and finding her brush, needing to do something with her hands.

“I am sorry. Is there anything I can do? Anything I should be aware of?” He asked. She hoped, desperately, that this wouldn’t mean he would suddenly start treating her like she was made of glass. 

“If I say no, or stop, I mean it. I will never use those words as part of play.” She replied flatly. His brows furrowed as he thought on her words.

“That seems… Quite obvious. I would have done that regardless.”

“I know. One of the things I love about you.” She offered him a small smile.

“Is that all? Are there no other things I need to be careful of? The last thing I want is to remind you of that.” He asked dubiously. She sighed. Of course he would be overly cautious. Of course.

“Then don't poison yourself to force me to take care of you, and don't push for more than I'm willing to give, and we'll be just fine.” She returned, attempting her usual humor against the grim resolve that had settled, with as much strength as she could muster behind her words.

“Very well my heart. I am sorry.”

“Stop.” She set down the brush and looked him in the eyes. “I am not some broken, fragile thing because some asshole took advantage of my kindness. I don’t want you to tiptoe around me, or treat me any differently than you have been. It's been over ten years. Is there anything else you want to know? I'd rather not have this conversation multiple times.” 

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, canting it to the side as he studied her face. She rubbed the scar on her leg through the nightgown, unconscious of the reason until she stopped with a start. He had been testing a new knife.

“What is his name?” Solas asked, attempting a mild tone.

“Why?” 

“So that if ever I should come across him in my travels, I can be certain to treat him with the regard he deserves.” He offered darkly.

“Like those mages?”

“Perhaps.”

“You know I would never ask for that.”

“And yet, I am quite certain that if any of the others told you a similar history, you would share my sentiments.” He countered.

“Well. You aren’t wrong about that.” She sighed, wondering if this would make her responsible for whatever happened to him now. Whether it would be a relief or another weight. Solas was not exactly… Well. He was right in that she would offer the same if their positions were reversed. “He chose the name Virfen when he took his Vallaslin.”

“The way of the wolf?” He looked slightly green. And murderous. And then crestfallen before the mask slipped back into place. He couldn’t quite help the tightening of his jaw muscles though.

“Oh. Yea. I had actually forgotten the meaning. I mostly just call him ‘that asshole’ if I have to refer to him now.” 

“I believe that is a disservice to assholes, Vhenan. Does it trouble you that I, as you put, have an affinity for wolves?”

“No. He doesn’t own them. He twisted them. I let go of that association when I forgave Fen’Harel for what that asshole did to me. His name is meaningless, just like him.” She huffed. “Except for the fact that it’s been over ten years and I still remember his name at all. And all the ways he twisted me. At least the nightmares have mostly stopped.”

“You have not been twisted, Thenera. You are still you, still the woman who shows compassion at every turn, who will protect those dear to her at her own cost.”

“It’s harder for me to let people in now. There’s always a part of me that’s waiting to be betrayed, so I just… Don’t let anyone in. I try to, I make it most of the way there… But there’s a part of me that’s just inaccessible.” 

“I know the feeling well.”

“I’m sorry.”

“As am I.” He offered her a small smile. “I am, however, glad to know this part of you.”

“I’m glad you know, too.” She swallowed, giving him half a smile, and the tension drained from her body suddenly, leaving her an exhausted shell. She scooted closer, and Solas opened his arms, and she slumped against him.

“I trust these sleeping arrangements are amenable to you?”

“Much better.” She murmured, raising a hand to muffle her yawn.

“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”

“Ar lath, ma’fen.” 

Solas coaxed her to lay down, wrapping his arms around her as her head rested on his chest. He reached down and kissed her hair.

“Solas?”

“Yes?”

“When do you think I’m prettiest?”

“When you throw your shoulders back against forces much larger than you. When you are kind to those who need help. When you smile; whether it wicked or defiant or wry or soft. Though I will confess, I have a weakness for the last, for the smile you only seem to cast to me. Why?”

“Because he always thought I was prettiest when I was crying.”

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer yet.

“I am quite glad you broke his nose.” He murmured against her, and she let out a snort of a laugh that dispelled some of the sadness.

“Me too. Thank you.” She murmured back, and drifted into sleep in his arms.


	79. Choice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to regularly scheduled snark!

“Virgins? Really? Some choice spirit you are.” 

“Thank you! Choice spirit, that’s right.” Imshael answered, far too pleased at being called what he claimed to be. At least he would be entertaining until they killed him. 

“C’mon, you gotta know an orgy with people who are definitely not virgins would be way more appealing to me.” She offered. Bull guffawed behind her, and she was certain Solas would have some sort of amazing expression if she dared to turn. Never turn your back on a predator.

“Yes. I’m not really sure why everyone always goes for the virgins. And they’re so hard to find! Well, you do have one here, but I doubt you’d want that one, even if virgins were your thing.” Imshael commented. “So, Inquisitor, what will your choice be? I’m afraid the orgy is off the table. But we have power and money! Always great options!”

“I’m good. I kinda have both of those already.”

“Oh. I see. Well then let’s get personal, shall we? Hmm… Dalish. Interesting. Oh! And other things. Very interesting.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“What about taking care of ‘that asshole’?” He offered, and she quirked her brow at him with a challenging smirk. She wouldn’t take that even if she didn’t think Solas would act. “Oh, yes, you’re probably right about that. Hmm. You self sacrificing types are always so tricky. Tricky and boring. Though you don’t strike me as the boring kind. If only I could get a better look into that pretty little head. So much fascinating knowledge!”

“Not as much as you’d like. And not all that self sacrificing either.” 

“Why does this sound like one of Solas and Cole’s conversations?” Cassandra asked, and Thenera shrugged without turning her back to the Forbidden One in front of her, who ignored the Seeker’s words.

“True. Lets see. Save your clan? No, you’ll do that one yourself. Oh! I know! Save your hand!”

She sucked in a hard breath as her head tilted to one side. If there was anything that would get her to let him go… It was this. And if there was anyone other than Solas who could do something about it… Then it would be one of the Forbidden Ones. 

“Can you actually do that? Or is that like the virgins.” She asked, probably more intently than she meant to. He tilted his head, slow grin spreading as he read her indecision. 

“Oooh! I’ve struck a chord! Would you look at that. Here you are, ready to kill me, except, just maybe, for your precious hand.”

“Well I am left handed. And I’d need both of them for that orgy. Can you do it?” She asked, trying to keep her voice light. Imshael’s smile fell, turning to a look of consternation.

“Alright fine. I probably can’t.” He shot a glance to Solas, and her heart stuttered in disappointment. “And I can’t bring anyone back from the dead, at least, not in a way you would like. Lets see. No revenge, no power, no money… And I think you already know the thing you want most is also off the table. Kinda messes with the feast I was promised.”

“Yea. And you already know I wouldn’t ask for that anyways. I have this thing about free will. I think I’ll go with death. Yours, I mean, if that wasn’t clear.” She answered, voice evening and steady. She would have gone for bringing Felassan back, too. Or… A happy ending with Solas. That was the one that was off the table, and even though she knew, it was still a punch in the gut.

“Pity. I guess we’ll see about whose soon.” Imshael answered, cheer dropping as he twisted.

Solas snapped a barrier into place, and they scattered as Imshael took on the form of a fear demon. 

Cassandra, Bull, and Blackwall surrounded him, Cole flitting like a shadow between the warrior’s blows as they hacked away. The ranged fighters aimed for his towering head, and Thenera was grateful for this shape’s height. 

She drew and loosed, faster than she’d ever thought she would be able to shoot, bow stronger than she thought to draw. Her aim was true, arrows tearing through the not flesh of the demon who currently radiated fear.

Several fearlings swarmed, and Dorian threw fire at them as Thenera loosed exploding arrows before the spiders could reach her.

She’d always had a problem with fear. Namely, that she didn’t often feel it. She felt it trickle and curl around her, making her aim waver as the adrenaline spiked. 

And then it was gone, and replaced with red rage. Like the lyrium everywhere, like the templars whose blood stained the snow of the courtyard.

Her hand steadied, and she drew back hard, brow creasing in concentration in the split second before she loosed. Imshael raised one glowing arm to strike at Blackwall, who countered with a crushing blow of his shield. Dorian cast a fire protection across them, keeping the shield from melting, or burning the warden pretender holding it. 

Soon, that form too gave way. To pride, haughty and laughing. She aimed for the joints, moving from the range of the whip attack, and she felt rather than saw Solas moving with her, their movements together becoming reflexive after so much time fighting together. 

Lightning lashed from his staff between bursts of rift magic, fine hairs on her arms and neck rising in the charged air. 

A sphere of purple energy shot towards them, and Thenera rolled one way as Solas fade-stepped the other.

She came back up into a crouch and drew another hard shot. Imshael opened his pride shaped mouth in another laugh, and she loosed, arrow sinking into his throat to the fletching. The laugh died, turning to a gurgle as the warriors bit into not flesh and it gave way, disappearing with a strange feeling as his magic in the courtyard dissipated, changing the pressure in her ears.

“Huh. I thought that would be harder.” Thenera said. 

“Well I for one am pretty glad for that.” Varric commented.

“He knew so much. He was like me but not. Twisted, ugly inside, no compassion, only choice. He wanted to see how they worked.”

“And you just want to help.”

“Yes. Help. I help the hurts.”

“You do, Cole. Thank you.” She smiled at the spirit, and he returned a small one. She glanced down at her hand, green light spilling out of the seams of the glove she wore.

“Would you truly have let him go for your hand?” Solas asked.

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“It would have been better if he had offered to save them all, like you want to.” Cole said. 

“Yea. But I think that would have been too easy of a choice.”

“Inquisitor? What is Cole talking about?” Cassandra asked.

“If Imshael had offered to save everyone I care about in the coming years at the cost of my life, I would in a heartbeat.”

“Would that be necessary?” Solas asked, tilting his head towards Thenera, brows creased. 

“I don’t know.” She glanced at Solas with a halfhearted smile. “I guess we’ll find out together.”


	80. At Least There's That

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay everyone. It's been... A very long week. So I hope you like this chapter!

“Hey Glowy. You know I'm not an idiot right?” Varric looked over at her with a halfhearted glare from his spot next to the fire, voice cast low to keep most of their group from noting their conversation. Solas had just stood to take his bowl to be washed, and Thenera had just pulled out a bit of sewing to work on at the fire before it grew too dark. The days were getting longer again, daylight lasting even after dinner.

“Well obviously.” She quirked an eyebrow at him.

“You wanna tell me what you've been holding back? The conversation with that demon shed some light on some stuff.” He commented with a pointed look. Well. Fenedhis. She set the muslin down.

“How about we take a walk?”

“Yea, sure thing.”

They rose as Solas returned, and meandered from camp after a word of assurance to him. She pulled her cloak closer in the rapidly dropping temperature as they moved away from the fire. They were spending the night in Suledin Keep, after claiming it for the Inquisition. It felt good to have an elf in control of the keep again, and strange. Suledin. The enduring keep. Full of statuary to Ghilan'nain, Andruil, and Fen'Harel. Why was it named that? Was it simply because of how it endured the veil? Or was it named for the enduring of the Evanuris? Or was it something else? She wished she truly was a dreamer, able to sleep here and see what it once was, instead of just what the anchor did to amplify the connection. They made their way to a quiet corner, into the warehouse full of crates their operatives would go through later.

“Alright Glowy. Spill. Your weird uncanny shit is getting worse, and a demon looked in your mind today and offered a bunch of shit that _hasn't happened yet_ , and talked about how much you know.” Varric looked up at her with a challenge, crossing his arms in front of him.

She sighed and leaned against one of the crates. Well. It was probably bound to happen.

“Promise this will stay between us for at least a while longer? Until after the ball and our next trip to the Storm Coast?”

He waved dismissively, as though that was a given.

“Sorry Longshot. I'm gonna need you to say it. Oh, and this doesn't go in the book.” She shot a pointed glance to his ink stained hands.

“Fine. I promise not to say anything to the others. As for the book; I'll do what I can.” He grumbled, and Thenera nodded in response.

“I see bits of the future in my dreams.”

He took a moment.

“Andraste’s tits, you really are blessed.” He said, and blew out a hard breath. She winced. He pulled a flask from his coat, and took a deep pull. He knew her better than to offer Thenera whatever stinging burning awful was in it.

“I don't know about all that. I'm still ringleader of the weird shit, and Dalish, and a perv. I know it wasn't Andraste who sent me. Well. Mostly sure. Sure it wasn't Andraste who pulled me from the Fade, at least.” She continued, wishing there was some way to go back to the easy repoire they’d had before. Before Haven. She didn’t want to be a statue of Andraste, holding bowls of fire.

Varric glanced up, dubious, and shied away from meeting her eyes. Ow. Ow ow ow.

“That's how you knew you'd survive Haven.” He mused. “How you knew to make a dress for Orlais. And the spiders in the Storm Coast! Shit Glowy, you took that bet knowing you'd win!”

“Oh. Yea. Here.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a few coins in peace offering.

“Nah, keep it. I started it. Truth be told, I kinda admire the skill. Not many can cheat against me and get away with it.” He shot her a wry smile, and relief flooded her at the familiar expression.

“Are we ok?”

“Yea Glowy. We're ok.” He said it reassuringly, but he could still only catch her eyes for a moment before he shifted away from her. She swallowed her disappointment and glanced away as she reached for the mantle of the Inquisitor, settling back into steel.

“And you won't tell anyone? Solas and Cole both know, so you don't have to worry about them.”

“Yea. I mean shit, who's gonna believe this anyways?”

“You did.”

“I'm an author. Suspending disbelief is what I do.” He ran a hand over his hair, stress smoothing his ponytail as he shifted his weight. “So Chuckles knows. No wonder you guys act so damn conspiratorial.”

“Yea. I figured I wouldn’t exactly be able to hide it from him, what with the being in love with him thing.”

“That damn pesky love. He tried to fight it every step of the way, too.” He shot her a wry smile that tried too hard, and then his gaze dropped. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“You can ask, I can't guarantee I'll answer; but I won’t lie.” She promised.

“Do I make it through this?” He asked, voice unsteady as he met her gaze, searching. She put a hand on his shoulder, and was grateful that he didn’t flinch.

“Yea. You do. And so does Hawke if I have any say in it, which I do.” She reassured, giving him a small smile.

He sucked in a hard breath, and let out a low whistle.

“Well at least there's that.”


	81. Power

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh so I think I've alluded to this before, but I headcanon that Deshanna is nonbinary. They are referred to in both fem and masc pronouns in the game so I thought it fitting. It uh.... Only barely comes up in this chapter but I just wanted to point out that the "they" is purposeful.

The tide of undead on the ramparts didn’t seem to stop, waves and waves that they pushed through, wearying a little more each step of the way as they finally managed to burn the bodies in the pits and push into the Citadelle itself.

Back in Dirthavaren, where despair clung to the air and shemlen scarred the land with the civil war that had taken the death of an alienage to start.

She glanced at Solas, wondering what the name of this place was once, what its purpose had been. As usual, he gave nothing away, face set in determination as the gateway opened.

The tornado of magical fire howled and crackled, straining the veil, itching and tingling like so much of the Dales.

“Watch out! Keep to the sides, keep out of its path!” She cried, though it was obvious. “Take a regen potion now!”

They made their way through, demons and darkspawn falling as they shot from corners and lured their enemies out of the path of the magical defenses.

Finally, low on potions and high on exhaustion, high on adrenaline, the anchor pulsing a steady reminder in her palm, she ran through the final corridor. Up the stairs, weaving between darkspawn and drawing them in behind her.

“Give me a head start! I’m going to release the anchor!” She cried behind her, and the others fell back a few paces.

She reached the top of the stairs, pulse pounding like the mark knew her intentions, begging with each frantic beat of her heart, each footstep. She turned towards the horde and released it with a deafening boom.

The few that hadn’t been caught in the blast shambled towards her, and she forced her shaking legs to run back, twisting and swirling away from them, careful not to catch herself in the echoing green energy. She didn’t know what it would do to her, and she didn’t want to find out.

Bianca’s bolts and Sera’s arrows snapped through the air, landing with thuds she could differentiate by memory now. Magic crackled, Dorian and Solas working in a steady rhythm, respect begrudgingly built.

And then it was over. They turned the massive wheel that released the defenses, and the howling tornado died with a grating whistle.

They released Celene’s people.

She hadn’t meant to stop here, to come back through Dirthavaren. But it was on the way, and there was this one big thing left to do, since their forces had fixed the bridge.

Well, until Vivienne would need her to come back.

The remaining two days in Emprise had been bloody as they released prisoners from the quarry, too late to save everyone, and despite Cole’s approval, it had been hard to feel like it was enough.

A silly thought, knowing what she knew, but it persisted. She walked the path laid out, knowing how many would lose their lovers, their families, their friends. It was safe. It was a guaranteed path to victory. But a thought persisted, surrounded by red lyrium, that maybe, if she had been bolder, she could have changed things for the better along the way. She couldn’t be sure whether it was the lyrium, whispering, or her own mind.

She released a breath as the Captain thanked her, a polite smile and a nod before turning away.

No. It was more likely things would go worse.

They made camp that night in Ghilan'nain’s grove, after clearing out the gurgut nest. A statue of Fen’Harel guarded it, and she grazed her fingers over it as they walked by. No one said anything this time.

Fen’Harel and Ghilan'nain. She was starting to notice a trend, of them and Andruil often being portrayed together, another thing she desperately wished she could ask Solas about.

She let her thoughts drift as she skinned the gurguts and began preparing dinner.

“Eeeew… We’re gonna eat that?” Sera asked as Thenera began slicing pieces of meat from the tails of the corpses.

“Waste not want not.”

“I’m with Buttercup here.” Varric added, nose wrinkling in disgust, twisting around the scar from the break.

“It’s actually quite the delicacy in Tevinter. Just a little bit sacreligious to the old gods, so naturally you couldn’t make them stop if you tried.” Dorian supplied with a wave of his hand as he finished piling wood for a fire, lighting the logs in front of him with the gesture.

“Huh. What does it taste like?” Bull asked curiously, turning to Dorian with an appreciative look he tried to ignore. She was almost surprised he didn’t know. It did seem like something he would be weirdly into.

“Mild, with a meaty texture like pork. Little bit of fishiness. The Pavus family recipe used citrus, sugar, and chilis.” He said curtly, not catching the qunari’s gaze again. Thenera’s lips twisted into a smirk.

“No chilis, no citrus, and not much sugar, but what about some paprika and cumin?” Thenera asked.

“Darling, you act as though I’ve cooked a day in my life. When I struck out on my own, I could burn water, and I’m afraid I’m not much better now. Your cooking has never led us astray, please do as you believe best.”

She smiled at Dorian and bowed her head in thanks, returning her attention to her hunting knife and the meat in front of her.

“Everyone grab a skewer! This will be easiest that way!” She told the group, and they rose to scour the clearing for suitable sticks and branches. She chuckled as she overheard Sera and Bull arguing over one in particular, clearly a superior stick of all the ones available.

She nearly started as she heard a twig snap just beyond her peripheral vision, but instead relaxed as she realized it was Solas. She didn’t have to look anymore, and the thought made her smile as much as the thought that the noise must have been purposeful. He rarely made a sound when he walked.

He sat near her as she finished, coating the chunks in salt and spices, enough to feed an army, and offered her a skewer of her own.

She caught his gaze, and they shared a smile. One small, private moment where the bustle of their noisy companions fell away, and it was just the two of them.

“You help each other’s hurts. And make them worse. I don’t understand.” Cole’s voice startled them.

“That’s ok Cole. It’s allowed to be what it is.” She shot him a reassuring smile, glancing back to see a flash of pain cross Solas’ face.

Moment broken, the world around returned, Sera’s boisterous comments and Blackwall’s guffaws. They each loaded their sticks, chatting as they turned them over the fire, fat dripping from the meat and sizzling against hot coals. Varric told stories, and Bull made inappropriate comments. Cassandra, disgusted noises that were gradually becoming less heartfelt.

Thenera sat and listened, laughing and smiling, remembering back to their much smaller group, huddled into oiled hoods on the Storm Coast, or even earlier, in the Hinterlands.

They had come so far since then, all of them. And so had she.

Finally, they retired for the evening. To a space now, unabashedly, a shared sleeping space. It was still new enough it made her smile every night, every night after her heart stuttered in a rare moment of self doubt that he would back off again. Would go back to keeping them separated. That was what Solas did, wasn’t it? Back off every time she got too close? She felt fragile. Like there was so little she could do, so little she could accomplish, and she scolded herself. Yea, only saving the world. Clearly not enough.

Was there more she could do?

She changed into her nightgown and he rejoined her.

“Solas?”

“Yes Vhenan?”

“Can I ask you about our pantheon?”

“Do the Dalish not see themselves as experts on such things?” He asked, one of _those_ looks on his face even in the dim light of the tent.

“Yes. But I’m smart enough to know that you can’t learn anything if you think you know everything. You’re a somniari. You might actually know, where we pass down stories from thousands of years ago and do not question them.” She answered, unwilling to rise to the challenge tonight. She flopped to sit cross legged across from him, and began scrubbing her teeth.

“And still, you continue to surprise me, Emmeara. Very well. I have seen some. Who would you have me speak of?”

“Mythal and Ghilan'nain please.” She pulled the scrub stick from her mouth to speak, and rinsed it outside the flap of the tent before reentering.

“Ah, yes, the namesake behind your Vallaslin. Do you ask about Ghilan'nain for the namesake of this place?”

“That’s part of it. Ashataralyn, our First, took the markings of Ghilan'nain. If ever there was an elf who embodied a halla, it’s her.” She smiled fondly. Solas reached for her brush, and motioned her to sit in front of him.

“I see.” He said, and untied the strip of suede that bound her braid and began working his fingers through it. “Then allow me to tell you the tale of Ghilan'nain’s ascension to godhood, if one can call it that. I saw a memory of a shining crown of silver branches being placed upon her brow by the Allmother. They were not blood, but Mythal accepted her as one of her own, her daughter, that day. Tears streamed down her face with happiness, an emotion there is no word for in common. Our people once called it _arlabelas_ , the feeling of overcoming many hardships to reach that moment which feels like home. Mythal spoke of her great hopes, and ash stained the memory for what was to come in truth.”

She tried to keep herself from purring or wavering where she sat as his hands worked through her hair, sensation building as his glorious voice wove around her. His fingers traced contemplative lines over the shaved sides of her scalp beneath the braid, and she shivered in his grasp.

“Do you know what they were like?” She asked, voice thick.

“Some, yes. They reigned for thousands of years, and personalities do shift in that time. I have seen many wondrous things, and many terrible in the memories of the Fade. Do you truly wish to know?” His hands stilled.

“Vhenan. I will never ask you a question I don’t want to know the answer to. I won’t flinch from the truth. I want to know both; the good and the bad.” She answered. Seeming satisfied, Solas took up the brush and began running it through, surprisingly deft for someone with no hair, carefully working up a few inches at a time.

“Mythal was the best of them. It is fitting you wear her marks, if you must wear Vallaslin. She was a protective mother. A fierce and stalwart defender, a beacon of creation, and guidance. Over the years, protection turned to vengeance and the fire of creation to ash. Her wisdom no longer freely given, begrudging acceptance of worship turned to expectation, then demand. And still, she was the best of them.”

“I can see how that would happen over time. Power corrupts. It always has, and maybe it always will.”

“And what will you do to keep it from corrupting you?” He asked, setting the brush down. She turned to face him, dipping her head in brief thanks before she answered.

“Disband the Inquisition when we’re done, and all the rifts are sealed. Go back to my clan. See if I can salvage some happiness out of my life.” She shrugged. “See if they’ll even have me back, or if I’ll fit in again.”

“Why would you not? And why would they not accept you now?”

“I’m now the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor, leader of a shemlen organization that is many many times larger than my clan. All of that they could move past, though they would be skeptical of my position. But there’s one more thing I’ve seen that might change that. Which… It doesn’t even matter if I don’t fit anymore. I’ve changed. This journey has changed me and will continue to. I’m not the Dalish woman whose most exciting adventures were crazy liaisons anymore. I’m… Bigger. I take up more space.”

“I see. And what is it to come that might change that, if I may ask?”

“I can’t tell you yet.” She answered, shooting him a secretive smile that didn't reach her eyes. Ugh. Crestwood. She still hadn’t decided for certain what she would do about her Vallaslin. It was part of her, even though the idea of it having been slave markings made her stomach turn. And then… The thought of going back to Lavellan after a relationship with Fen’Harel? What would happen? Would she be accepted, even if she kept her Vallaslin? Was she willing to keep it just to make sure she could go back?

Ash would accept her. Her family obviously would. But the rest of the clan, who saw her in varying degrees of respect, the odd one who befriended shems in every city they camped near, and seemed to have no interest in continuing the Elvhen line? Deshanna might be willing, if they didn’t face backlash from the others. The others that included several former lovers.

Not only that. But she had seen enough evidence to think that the veil was only temporary. It was thin everywhere, small tears forming on their own from the blood spilled, from spirits pressing. The veil either needed to come down or be reinforced. If reinforced, it would weaken again and again. Solas had to know that. And she wouldn’t be there to mitigate damage, and Solas may not be there to help it come down smoothly in another few millennia. It would be chaos. And it would do nothing to help the elves.

The elves who were subjugated at every turn, with landmarks dotting the dales, lauding their latest downfall. Her own clan would die if she attempted diplomacy with what was to come. Some were supposed to anyways. Fuck that.

“Or maybe.. I’ll just be evil. Let the power run its course. Plan to destroy the world, the usual. I’d have enough to dismantle the human power structure after this. _I_ might not be salvageable after getting my hands that dirty, but it would be something I could be proud of accomplishing.”

“You would do such a thing?” He tilted his head to look at her, questioning look as the light of the anchor lit green along the curves of his face. She returned a mirthless smile.

“Our people have been subjugated since Arlathan fell. I’m not sure there’s a way to fix it without a lot of bloodshed. A lot of entrenched power structures would need to be forcibly destroyed. I would lose a lot of support, but I would gain a lot in other areas.” She explained calmly. Something that had been weighing heavier and heavier. The role of Inquisitor was designed to be anyone, but it wasn’t anyone. It was her. An elf. An elf who held possibly the most powerful role in this age.

Now that she had that power… What could she do? Ameridan tried to make life better for the elves, and failed. He hadn’t gone far enough, he hadn’t taken steps to secure their future before he died. Even Solas had failed. Ostensibly, Solas had even _caused_ the current state with the veil.

“Is this something you’ve seen?” He asked softly, a complicated mix of emotions simmering in his gaze.

“No. My dreams have never allowed me to veer so far from the path.”

“And what would you do if you succeed? What system would you replace the current with?”

“I don’t know yet. But if you have any ideas, I’m all ears.” She quirked a brow at him, and he chuckled, dispelling the odd look. Or possibly putting his mask back up. It was hard to tell.

“Not this evening, Vhenan. Let us sleep. We have much wearying traveling ahead of us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops politics.


	82. Montsimmard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that the Western Approach is supposed to be cold??? Because I sure af didn't until I read Asunder. At which point I assumed it was a glaring lore hole and went digging. But there is literally no mention in game of the temperature. The Hissing Wastes are referred to as cold a couple times, which is right next to the Western Approach, and Asunder very clearly states that it's cold. Solas mentions a sunburn, Blackwall mentions a flood and losing all food and water, Harding talks about how harsh it is. But they never mention temperature and I am a little salty.

They made their way to the imperial highway, another two day ride through rocky plains that gave way to farmland.

Montsimmard used to be a bustling city. She didn’t know exactly what it was supposed to be, little more than a dot on a map, but now it was full to bursting with Gaspard’s men. Makeshift barracks had been established, and the city seemed dour with the weight of the civil war. A tower rose at the edge, outside the gate. A place she guessed had once been a circle, now empty. She couldn’t tell if it had always looked so forlorn, or if the despair that permeated the facade now was because it sat abandoned. 

Fear clung in the air. She saw no locals out in the streets as they drew their mounts up, nearing the city gates, only guards and soldiers. It was unsettling.

“We should resupply here. There is one more town along the highway, where we will replenish our water supply, but any other gear we can obtain here, it would be wise to do.” Cassandra said, dismounting as they reached a stable just inside the city. They all followed suit. It would feel really nice to be out of the saddle, even if it was only for a few hours.

“I do not believe, Seeker, that much will be available with the current state of affairs in Orlais.” Solas commented, glancing towards one of the crude defenses built around the city.

“You might be correct about that, Solas, but the Western Approach will be a cold and unforgiving land, and we should seek what aid can be found here. Val Firmin is not so well supplied.”

“Wait… COLD?” Thenera interrupted, eyes going wide.

“Yes, bloody land is unforgiving out there.” Blackwall added.

“But it’s a desert!” She insisted.

“Yes. A chill one. The second blight has scarred the land, and it may be centuries yet before it recovers.” Cassandra said, turning as if to walk further into town.

“But. I packed for HEAT.” Thenera all but wailed.

“You sound surprised, Glowy. Kinda weird for you.” Varric commented, a strange look on his face, like he was trying to read her during a game of Wicked Grace.

“Yea… I guess it is. I’ve always been under the impression that it was hot.” She shot a rueful glance to her pack. “Fenedhis. I made an outfit for the desert with as light of fabric as possible. How could this have happened?”

Sera giggled.

“Ooooh Herald of Andraste gonna get her tits in a twist! Almost make this rubbish bit worth it. Heh. Remember those titcicles?”

“Yours are gonna be just as much of icicles as mine. Bull too.”

“Hey! Leave my tits out of this.”

“At least you still have your underthings from Emprise.” Solas offered mildly, steering them back on track.

“Yea. And the stuff I made will still help me blend into the sand.” She begrudgingly admitted.

“I don’t like that place.” Cole added darkly. She put her hand on his shoulder and offered a smile.

“It’s ok Cole. We're with you.” She soothed. 

With that, they walked to the gates. They were closed, manned by a few soldiers who called out for them to declare themselves. 

Thenera let out a hard breath and drew off the glove that covered the anchor’s glow, pulling herself as tall as her small stature would allow. Might as well show them the hero they expected. She glanced back at her group and saw a small smile at the corner of Solas’ mouth, and she returned one of her own before fixing her gaze on the man who had spoken, and heading confidently in their direction. 

“The Inquisition! Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Lavellan!” Cassandra called out, and Thenera turned her palm to keep the glow visible. It crackled, energy already built high since its last discharge. They drew straighter.

She glanced past the gate, into the city, as they strode forward. Soldiers were everywhere, bustling and shooting terse glances as they caught sight of their party. A few of the younger recruit’s eyes widened as they ran off, no doubt to spread the news.

They drew near, within the range of battle, and the cluster drew into a well disciplined military stance, though they wouldn’t bow to her. Not yet, at least.

“Ser! What brings the Inquisition to Montsimmard?” One soldier asked as he drew near, clearly wary as he kept his hand on the pommel of his sword.

“At ease. We travel West. We’re in need of supplies, and I had hoped you might be able to direct us to the best place.”

“Sorry, ser! Not much in the way of supplies that the Emperor hasn’t requisitioned.” He said. He waved the gate open, allowing them through. Thenera caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned her head to see one of the locals looking out from a window, terrified,  
before they closed the shutter as swiftly and silently as possible.

“Very well. You aren’t mistreating the locals, are you?” She asked, stepping into the gateway to keep it from closing again.

“No, ser! Gaspard would not stand for such a thing. He keeps to the Chevalier’s code.”

“What of the elves?” She asked softly. “Does the Chevalier’s code apply to them?”

The soldier blanched.

“Uh. That is, it’s not, ser.” He fumbled for words.

“See that it does. Or I will make it a priority to return here. And I will see that Gaspard never takes the throne.” She replied, deadly. The soldier looked askance, glancing at the gateway, unsure if he should try to close it again. Gaspard wouldn’t rise to power anyways, but that didn’t make what she said any less true. “Is there anything we can do to assist the people while we’re here?”

“Ah. Ser.” He did bow then, which drew a small smile from Thenera. “We run low on healing herbs, and there is a pack of Phoenixes which have kept our forces from being able to gather them.”

“Consider it done. Cassandra, you find the supplies we need that we can get here. Solas, Bull, with me and we’ll do a bit of hunting.”

“Ser? With just three?”

Thenera shot him a slow, dangerous smile, and Bull, catching her intention, began laughing behind her.

“Wait and see.”

She turned and strode out of the gate, Bull and Solas falling into step behind her as the rest of their party walked through the gates of Montsimmard.

“That was pretty well done Boss. Very Qunari of you.” Bull said with a grin as they left sight of the city, heading to the spot the soldier had pointed out. Solas shot an annoyed look at him.

“Oh?” She asked, quirking a brow.

“Oh yea. You ask for compliance. You threaten what will happen if they don’t go along with it, and offer benefits if they do. If the benefit also scares them, that’s all the better.”

“That is hardly a tactic confined to the Qun.” Solas sniffed.

“Now now, no fighting right now.” She said, as they came up to the clearing nestled between large rock formations where elfroot and embrium seemed plentiful. “Let’s start gathering and see how long it takes them to show up.”

As it turned out, it wasn’t long at all.

They were about halfway through their collection when they heard the scream of the first one, and the responding cry of the others. Three total.

“Get back!” Thenera cried, holding out her marked hand as they came over the crest, barreling towards them. The final one lagged behind, outside the range of the blast, but they would get there too quickly for her to wait.

She released the anchor with a deafening boom and drew her bow as a barrier went up around them.

Bull roared and charged the one not caught in the blast, intercepting it before it could reach her or Solas. She edged around, trying to get a better angle to shoot from, and saw, or felt, Solas disappear from her peripheral. A few more steps and she’d have a clean shot. One, she pulled an arrow from her quiver as the green light from the blast dissipated. Two, she nocked her bow, one had survived. Three, she stepped right up to Solas’ side where he had Fade-stepped, drew, and released, hitting the beast in the throat as Bull’s hammer struck it in the skull with a sickening crack.

Solas’ magic shot out past them, to the struggling and screaming beast that had somehow survived.

It went down with an anguished howl.

“Let’s gather a few of these feathers. And Bull, how do you feel about bringing back some trophies?”

Bull grinned and cracked his knuckles.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They set to. Solas collected the rest of the useable herbs from the clearing, sure as always to leave them able to regrow.

Bull chopped the heads off after draining the blood, tying them together with a length of rope, a grisly bit of macrame. Thenera collected feathers, knowing they would be needed, but not remembering what for. She hoped she wasn’t slipping. She could have sworn someone had said something about the heat. She looked back, trying to peer into her other life. 

Oh.

It wasn’t her imagination. It was getting harder. Her brows furrowed as she picked the last bit of Embrium, facing away from the others. Solas did say something about a sunburn, but… She couldn’t remember much else beyond the colors of the sand that would lead her to that conclusion. A cold desert.

At least it wouldn’t be humid, so there was that. There would be time to delve deeper into the other part later.

“Inquisitor?” Solas asked. Bull snorted.

“Really Solas? You two have been sharing a tent for how long now and you’re still going to call her ‘Inquisitor?’” He asked incredulously. Solas shot him an annoyed look, and Thenera nodded to him to continue.

“It seems you have been using the mark’s new ability with more and more frequency.” He continued, ignoring Bull.

“Oh. Yea, I guess I have. It’s been building a bit faster. And it gets… Disorienting if it I don’t release it for too long.”

“Will you allow me to take a look at it this evening?” 

“Oh she’ll allow a lot more than that.” Bull interceded. Thenera covered her laugh with a cough, and Solas sighed.

“Yes of course Vhenan.” She answered, shooting a smile at Bull. 

They made their way back to the city, and Thenera spotted someone with a more impressive uniform than the one from earlier manning the gate, no doubt there precisely for her return.

“One of your men told me about the problem getting healing herbs due to the phoenix nest. We took care of them. Here are their heads, and the elfroot and embrium from that clearing.” She waved Bull forward and he had the decency to be appropriately intimidating as he let the heads hit the ground in front of her with a graceless thud. She didn’t try to keep the smirk off her face, and Solas handed over the bundle of herbs.

“Inquisitor! The rightful Emperor of Orlais thanks you! We are in your debt.” She looked down at the beasts heads, the two that had been blasted looking grotesque, charred and melted, yellow bone peeking through flesh, and her questioning gaze scoured the three of them, though she said nothing.

“Then make absolutely certain the Chevalier’s code applies to the treatment of elves. If I hear that any of Gaspard’s men have mistreated any elf, you will wish you looked as good as these heads. Now, where can my people get some dinner?” She asked mildly, not waiting for an answer to her threat.

“Ah. Um. Yes your ladyship. The tavern just down the road and to the South a couple blocks is quite good. I believe your people are already there.”

“Thank you.” She replied, with as warm of a smile as she could muster, and led them to the tavern.

“Glowy! You’re back! They have dwarven ale here!” Varric called in greeting.

“Oh there is no world where I would drink that stuff. Isn’t it made from fungus?” Thenera wrinkled her nose as she sat down, and Sera slid her a mug with a grin. She sniffed it and nodded. Cider. Excellent.

“Fungus, lichen, a specific kind of mushroom or two. The details are hazy.” Varric waved his hand nonchalantly. “Only thing worth keeping from the blighted Deep Roads.”

“Eaugh.” Sera replied elegantly.

“Agreed.” Dorian added.

“I would be interested in trying a bit.” Cassandra said uncertainly. Varric grinned and passed his mug to her. She took a tentative sip.

“It is not repulsive.” She said, and took another sip.

“Ok, I’ll bite.” Bull said, and reached his hand out for the cup. Cassandra passed it to him with a resigned wave from Varric, and he took a drink.

“Tastes like dirt. But I kinda like it.” He mused. He took a longer pull and Varric made a disgruntled noise.

“Hey! Get your own!” He reached his hand out for his mug and Bull took another swig before handing it back.

“Good call. I’ll get the next round. You want one of your own Cass?” The qunari asked with a grin.

“That will suffice for this evening. One of us must remain sober.”

“An’ it’s not gonna be me!” Sera added gleefully. Blackwall guffawed and they clinked mugs in salute before taking a long pull.

By the time they ate, the sun was beginning to sink low. Only a few more hours until nightfall.

“Hey guys, I know not everyone was around for the assassination attempt in Redcliffe, but I’d prefer we don’t linger in town limits. Especially since I just threatened the soldiers here.”

There was a thud as a mug hit the table, ale sploshing over the side. Sera cackled.

“Maker. You did what?” Cassandra asked.

“Yea, so let’s get out of here and find a nice campsite for the evening. We can make it to the next town tomorrow. How did your supply run go?”

“Unfortunately, Solas was right.”

“He does that a lot.” She smiled over at him, and he flicked her a warm glance of appreciation that made her heart jump.

“Indeed. We managed to find some fresh flint for fires and some water, but not enough. And no new rations. Some of the town are struggling to eat as it is.” Cassandra broke her gaze, pulling her back to more pressing matters.

“Ok. Lets get on the road then. Hopefully we can get set up before dark, do a little hunting.”

“Very well.”

They left after paying the tavern owner generously, and Sera sang a horribly inappropriate song about a redhead as they rode out of the other side of Montsimmard, Gaspard’s men rushing to clear their path.


	83. Vhenas

She couldn’t remember anything from her other life from the past several weeks. She chewed on her lip and grabbed the muslin Alyssa had given her, needing to do something with her hands. She sifted through, for the one with long basting stitches in red, curving around the body at points of movement, strips of stretchy bias letting it hug the body.

“Varric, are you ready for fitting number two?” She asked as she returned to the fire from where her pack had been stashed in her tent.

“Yea, sure thing Glowy.” He stood and took off his coat and gloves. “Shirt too?”

“Yep.” She answered. Weeks with no memories of the other life. And it was starting to feel… Fuzzier. Further away.

“Too bad Rivaini’s not here. She loves my chest hair.” He said with a mock serious tone as he pulled off his belt and undid the clasps of his top.

“Well who doesn’t?” She shot him a smile. She noticed Cassandra behind her, turning pink and away. Were her lives separating again? Or was she just retaining the same memory of that life as that one did of this?

“Who would have known the dwarf was so well built?” Dorian commented.

Thenera rolled her eyes as she helped Varric into the toile, the basted mockup of the armor she had designed, and pulled out her small tin of pins and began closing it up over him before he got uncomfortable. What if it was even worse than that? What if something had happened to her there?

“Sadly for you, I’ve only got eyes for Bianca.” He returned with a good natured wink.

Would she even know, ever find out? She turned from them to dig in her pack, masking the faint tremor in her hands. It had been feeling less and less real for while. Would she start losing those memories? Would only these ones remain?

She pulled out the spool of red thread and a small pack of needles. She always lost them, so she had made certain to bring at least a dozen of the little bastards. She quickly threaded the needle and basted him into the muslin so he wouldn’t be stabbed while checking movement in it.

“There. I see a couple spots already, but it’s mostly good, I just want to check to make sure you can still move before I make any more adjustments. Go, do some of your combat movements.”

Varric obliged her, rolling through the grass outside camp and testing a couple flips with Bianca, careful to stay on the far side, away from the river that fed into Lake Celestine. She watched for stiffness in the movements, or bunching or straining of the fabric that would be exacerbated in armor weight leather. What would happen if they disappeared? What if she lost the power to change anything?

“Feels a little tight here, Glowy.” He said, pointing to his shoulder area. There was a chance he would need another small piece of bias there for more mobility.

She grabbed his shoulders to keep him from moving and stuck a few pins in her mouth, and began poking and pinching at areas, snipping basting threads and repinning.

She shot a glance at Solas, who sat nearby, reading, and her throat went thick at the thought of losing him for certain, being blindsided by his words. She was grateful for the look of grim concentration that came naturally when focusing on a project like this. She didn’t glance again.

“Careful with those.” He said as she adjusted the fit over his ribcage. He craned to lean over, to see what she was doing, and she swatted at him.

“Stay still when I poke with the sharp things, and you won’t have to worry about it.” She chastised through a mouth of pins, roughness of her voice unnoticeable through the slight mumble. He grumbled, but stilled, and she let out a deep breath through her nose. Too early to worry about that. “Besides, it’s just a little prick.”

“That’s not what he said.” Bull added with a rumbling leer, and she snorted out a laugh.

When she had made the minor adjustments, she asked him to move in it again, raising his arms, then holding Bianca. She nodded when that worked, and he took it off so she could baste the new lines in place and have him test it in movement again.

When they retired for the evening, in their camp a few hours ride outside Val Firmin, she was relatively confident of the pattern for Varrics. Bull’s was already finished, and Solas’ was nearly done. She would hopefully be able to send them back to Dagna and Harrit with some of the scouts.

She turned her gaze towards Solas, and realized she must have been avoiding meeting his eyes for most of the evening. He looked back at her thoughtfully, and she tried to offer a reassuring smile.

“Is the ball at Halamshiral truly so terrifying?” He asked, sitting cross legged on their combined bedrolls.

“No.That should be alright. A bit stressful, but alright.” She answered, setting her brush down and sitting across from him. Well, it was more than a bit stressful, but the idea that he might stress because she did, that she might not get to see him so at ease in the intrigue of the palace… She let out a deep breath.

“I’m worried about my dreams.” She admitted.

“Oh?” He asked, quirking his head to the side, faint line marring the space between his brows.

“I realized I don’t remember any from the last several weeks. Can you please look for me in the Fade tonight, Vhenan?”

“Yes of course.” He answered rapidly. His expression shifted, a deeper concern settling. “That is troubling. Is there anything that may have caused this?”

“I’m not sure.” She said, unwilling to delve into possible causes. “They’re starting to lose sharpness.”

“Might it be caused by the increasing anchor activity?” He asked. She quirked her head in thought.

“Maybe. I’m not sure.”

“Is this why you were caught off guard with the temperature of the desert?” He asked again, reaching out for her marked hand.

“No. _That’s_ because my dreams only show me sight and sound. I don’t have any idea what things smell, feel, or taste like.” She answered, offering him another small piece to appease his curiosity. She scooted closer to him, running her fingers over his gently. He captured the mark in his hands, and began weaving magic into it. She swallowed. His magic. It felt so sweet, so loving. She could hardly remember how clinical it had once felt.

“Fascinating.” He answered softly, seeming nearly as swept away as she was. She closed her eyes as he withdrew his mana from her hand, leaving her faintly tingly.

“Hmm.” She agreed. She leaned into him, breathing him in. “For instance. I had no idea what you smell like.”

“Oh? And what is that exactly, Emmeara?” She could feel his smile, and his arms came up around her, letting her take off her armor. He ran one hand through her hair, burying his nose against her head and planting a kiss on her forehead.

“Leather and woodsmoke. Herbs and sweat. Solace. Home.” She answered, letting her eyes drift shut. It was getting harder and harder to think about losing this, losing him. She felt his throat work.

“Vhenas. Vhenas, ma Vhenan.” He answered. _Home. Home, my heart._ He pulled back and tipped her chin up. For a moment she was certain he was going to say something else, but instead he brought his lips to hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...So who here called it? I was really worried I hadn't left enough hints....
> 
> Also, sorry for the ending. Next chapter is NSFW!!!!!


	84. Tasting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT SMUT SMUT
> 
> (NSFW, in case you didn't put that together)

A soft kiss. One that tasted a little like the spiced vegetables they’d had for dinner, one that felt like a promise she couldn’t name. She clung to him like a lifeline, because he was, and because he was one she would probably lose.

Definitely lose, if she lost her dreams.

She leaned into him, into the kiss, desperately, like she could make him stay with just this. Like she could avoid Crestwood. _I have distracted you from your duty. It will not happen again._

Her arms tightened against him, fingers sinking into the flesh of his back, to the back of his neck, and he groaned against her.

His hands followed her lead, gripping and pulling her close as his tongue parted her lips and she let him in, drinking him in, drowning.

She was on fire with need, desperate and reckless, feeling him harden against her. Her nails dug in and he growled into her. She pushed her body against his, needing more points of contact, more of him against her, _more_.

He pulled back from their kiss, and she whimpered.

“Vhenan. Thenera… May I…” He trailed off uncertainly. “May I taste you?”

She shivered in his arms at his words, eyes fluttering as she nodded, emphatically. She moved to kiss him again, but he stopped her.

“Are you certain?” He asked. She swallowed thickly, forcing her brain to form words.

“Are you? I am. Though I should warn you it’s… ah. Well. It takes a long time.” She answered with an apologetic wince. His eyes closed and he took a steadying breath, his tongue darting over his lips.

“Yes. I’m certain. And I do not mind a challenge. Not in the least.” He replied huskily. He met her gaze, hot and no longer questioning.

“Will you let me return the favor?” She asked. She felt his cock twitch against her belly.

“Not tonight, Vhenan. Tonight is for you. But yes. Eventually.” He answered. He brought his lips to hers again. Slowly, carefully. His hands found the hem of her nightgown and skimmed up, following the soft curves of her sides, and he broke the kiss to pull the garment from her body, setting it aside and turning his eyes back to her.

He drank her in, and she felt herself begin to pulse with desire under his gaze. She wasn’t some modest, bashful creature to shrink under his appraisal. She saw the lust in his eyes, the undisguised approval, and her lips curled into a smile. She raised her hand to his jaw, and he leaned into her, turning to kiss her hand before he drew closer again.

He lowered her to the pile of blankets as his lips pressed hers, measured and sweet. Like they had all the time in the world. His body pressed against hers, roughspun fabric sharp against her bare flesh, each sensation heightened as her nerves sang. He was hard against her thigh, and she desperately wanted to touch him, taste him, take him in.

He drew back and nudged her jaw with his nose, and she turned her head, granting the access he requested.

His lips met her neck, her ears, as his body slid several inches down against hers. She whimpered and gasped as he nipped her ears, desperate for pressure lower, but only the bite of the edge of his belt against her hips answered.

Slowly, maddeningly, he moved down. A trail of kisses and nips and tiny swirls of his tongue that traced her collarbones, her sternum. One hand held his weight over her and the other roved her skin. Hesitantly, he traced over her thigh, and she moaned as he grazed the sensitive skin along the inside above her knee, still too low, still too far away from where she needed him. His teeth grazed one nipple, and she hissed in a breath, concentration scattered. She was dimly aware she was making noises, but there was no way to know what they were.

He slid further down her body, mouth meeting her ribs, the spot he had healed her. It seemed to sing, far more sensitive than she had expected. His fingers traced up the outside of her thigh again, to the dip of her hip bones, and he sunk his hand into her flesh as he sucked and bit at the fresh new skin higher up. She arched against him with a guttural sound, fisting one hand into the blankets as the other tried for purchase against his scalp, only spurring him on.

He released with a wet sound and a hum of approval, letting his teeth graze the spot one last time before moving lower, to the muscles of her stomach and the ridge of bone at her hip. His free hand moved to her knee, pushing it to the side before moving up, a hesitating touch that came maddeningly close to where she wanted before moving away, stroking her other hip bone as his mouth worked the other.

She was whimpering.

“Please.” She strained, body rocking against him, even as he held her in place. His hand flared out, pushing down on her hip and stifling her movements.

“Please what, Vhenan?” He murmured against her skin. She shuddered under him as his breath danced across the wet, sensitive skin. “Would you like me to stop?”

There was a smirk in his voice. She whimpered.

“No. Please…” She managed.

“Is this what you want?” His hand grazed, not quite touching, over the fine hair of her sex. She shuddered against him.

“Mhm… Need.” She pleaded.

“Good.” He answered, and lowered his hand. A jolt shot through her as his fingers ran down the length of downy hair, sliding between her folds, and she heard him hiss in a breath as he met the wetness there. Which was… Considerable. She arched into him, begging him closer, needing more friction, more pressure, more. Always more. He groaned as he stroked a finger against her clit, swirling experimentally in her slick, sliding lower and pausing just at her entrance.

She held her breath, taught and caught in his grasp.

He withdrew.

She nearly started crying, and Solas had the audacity to chuckle.

“Patience, my heart.” He murmured against her skin, blowing warm air across wet skin where he had just licked her hip. He shifted, settling himself between her legs, and he placed a trail of kisses up the inside of one thigh.

She squirmed, desperate for him to be closer, chill air sharp against fadebumps that weren’t from the cold. His hands moved to her hips and held them, holding her in limbo, in purgatory, pulsing and shivering. She met his gaze and it was dark, pupils blown wide, nearly swallowing the storm clouds that usually resided there.

“Galanor, Emmeara. Ma galethe lea’vune.” He murmured, and lowered his lips to her sex.  _Magnificent, my dream. My perfect moonlight._

He started with a kiss over downy hair. Soft, nearly chaste were it not for the shock that ran through her body, the violent tremor of need finally acknowledged. He lapped out, experimentally, slowly, tasting her reverently, and she cried out, bucking against him, against his strong hands that still held her. He groaned and pressed closer, harder, lapping, swirling his tongue until she couldn’t stay quiet.

Fuck it had been so long. He tore sounds from her throat, a litany that rose and fell but never stopped as he found a rhythm. Her muscles began to clench, far too soon, drawing her towards the edge. And there she stayed.

She was on fire even as the cold air prickled against her skin, each gasping breath a dichotomy as she pulled in cold and released hot, and she hovered, caught, expecting him to stop.

He didn’t stop. That was always the fear, that they would get bored, they would get tired, that she wouldn’t be able to get there. The fear that kept her from giving in, from letting go. That she would be stuck at this plateau, unable to find release, more frustrated than she had started. It wouldn’t be the first time. He didn’t stop though, didn’t show any signs of fatigue.

She looked down, wanting to see his face even as hers twisted with pleasure.

He was enraptured, and it was nearly enough to push her over the edge. He caught her eyes, smouldering, and he moved one hand from her hip, under his chin, and slid a finger inside her effortlessly. She arched against him, eyes rolling back as he lapped and stroked, curling and pulling his drenched hand with each stroke of his tongue, her muscles firing randomly as she started to tighten around him. Her voice froze in her throat as the sensation became too much, and his pace hitched, just for a moment.

She met his gaze again, unable to articulate much of anything, wanting to see his face, his expression, and she could nearly feel his triumphant smile as he caught her expression and continued apace, pressing just a little harder. He added another finger, pressing against her tightening walls, sensation too much, too strong, too tight. Building and building, and she screamed as it released in a blinding wave of shuddering pleasure, much sooner than she expected.

She convulsed under him, and still he lapped, drawing it out and out until couldn’t stand it anymore, far too sensitive.

“No more! Mercy!” She cried, and he stilled.

“Are you alright, Emmeara?” He asked, resting his cheek against her shaking thigh as the tremors subsided, and slowly withdrew his fingers.

A laugh bubbled out of her, lighter and more carefree than she could remember in ages.

“I’m not sure _alright_ is the right word, Vhenan.” She answered. “Come here.”

He licked his lips with a smile, chin shining. He raised his fingers to his mouth and licked them carefully before he crawled back up her body, and she pulled him into a kiss, tasting herself on him, wet chin brushing against hers. He was still hard and hot against her, and she kissed him harder to keep from begging him to fuck her right then.

Slowly, her pulse evened, and the chill of the tent dried the sweat that clung to her, though there was still a puddle between her legs. Solas pulled back from the kiss, smile on his face crinkling the corners of his eyes. She glanced down, heavy lidded, and saw he was still straining against his pants, and she shut her eyes against the urge to unlace his breeches and swallow him whole. It looked like he was… Quite considerable.

“Are you sure?” She asked, licking her lips.

“Yes. Not tonight. And I fear I will have the opposite problem.” He apologized, with the same wince she’d had in her tone earlier. She swallowed carefully.

“I see.”

“Ir abelas, Vhenan.”

“Solas. Tel abelas. I am trying very, very hard not to say anything to push and you decide to tell me _that_? Fendhis.”

“Ah… I take it you don’t find that to be an issue then?”

“Vhenan.” She said pointedly, glancing down and biting her lip. “Imagine I just told you it would take just a few licks to make me come, to taste my spend, to feel me pulse…”

His eyes closed involuntarily, and he swallowed.

“I see.”

“And… If… ah… You’d ever like to increase your stamina…. I’d be happy to help you practice.” She offered lamely. “Do you… Need some privacy before we sleep?”

“That would… Perhaps be wise. Though I do not wish to leave you. Especially like this.” He looked over her appraisingly, and nodded to himself. “I will stay. That can wait. I would not trade this moment for anything.”

He smiled, and brushed the hair from her face before kissing her again.


	85. Through the Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry my pace has slowed down! Life has been super hectic but hopefully I'll be able to have a little more writing time. Also. This chapter took me literal hours because I actually wrote a chunk of Solas' dialogue to the Hallelujah cadence!

“Good morning, Emmeara.” Solas greeted, pulling her from the last wisps of dreams that flitted away as she cracked open her eyes, just enough to see the outline of him in front of her.

“Mrnng, Vhnan.” She mumbled with a smile. She reached out for him and pulled him into a kiss, one with morning and the remnants of the previous night’s activities on their breath, somehow not detracting from it in the least. She arched against him, wiggling to try to get closer, but he broke away. She opened her eyes again with consternation, struggling to focus, and took in his expression before a yawn overcame her, and she rubbed her eyes.

“Where does your mind go?” He asked, voice concerned, questioning.

She rubbed her eyes harder, swallowing, attempting to make her brain work enough for this conversation.

“I take it no Fade?” She asked, torn between relief and wariness. So, she still didn’t know what was happening, or why it was. But she probably hadn’t died in her other life. Probably. If only there was a way to know for certain.

“You… As you fell into sleep, I found you in the Fade. You… Ah… Kissed me, and as I held you to me you disappeared from my arms. I woke to find if you had rejoined the waking. You slept soundly still, and could not be woken.” He explained. Her brows furrowed. So she passed through the Fade then? Some sort of conduit for her spirit? It wasn’t exactly surprising that he hadn’t been able to wake her, but it was concerning. What if they were attacked in the middle of the night? Would her body lay defenseless as she stayed in a world without magic?

“Have there been other times you tried to wake me?” She asked.

“Yes. And you are dodging, Vhenan.” He said, as gently as possible without losing the edge to his tone.

“Maybe a little. Too early for secrets. More snuggles?” She asked hopefully. He gave her a reproving look. “Augh. Fine. Somewhere far away. I’ll tell you more of mine when you tell me more of yours.”

His brows furrowed, and he sighed. 

“Very well, Vhenan. I will tell you something I have not told another soul.” He paused, and the sleep fell from her faster than she would have thought possible without coffee. “I lost a friend. Not terribly long ago. I could have prevented his death, and did not. In fact, it was my fault. I thought his life a necessary sacrifice. I regret it.”

“I’m sorry.” She replied. Felassan. She remembered that much at least. Her heart wrenched for him, because… Solas hadn’t lied. It was his fault. He had killed Felassan himself. She wished she would have gotten the chance to meet him... She took a deep breath. “My dreams aren’t just the future. I think… I think maybe I live multiple lives. I think, maybe, that the anchor did something to unite them for a while. But… They seem to be drifting apart again.”

“Multiple lives?” He questioned. “Such as possible other Inquisitors?”

She made a noncommittal sound, and was grateful he seemed to take it as an affirmative.

“Hey Lovebirds, we gotta get this caravan on the road! There’s coffee flavored sugar waiting in your mug Glowy! Come get it before it gets cold!”

“Thanks Longshot!” She called out, grateful for the distraction. She pulled herself from the bedroll, still nude from the previous night, and Solas was further distracted. Good. She smiled slowly at his reaction and quickly moved to brush her teeth and rinse off a little before pulling clothing on for the day. He seemed to be contemplating something, and she changed the topic before he could ask more questions.

“Oh! Speaking of other Inquisitors… We will find the last one. Ameridan. Will you help me see if it’s possible to save him?”

She twisted back to meet his gaze as she wound her breastband carefully, catching the shock flickering over his face before she turned back and tugged her tunic over her head.

“I will see what can be done, though I will need more information.”

“I’ll tell you everything I know about that. Tonight, Vhenan. Before it can slip from my mind.” She promised, sitting to pull her boots on. 

She felt lips brush the back of her neck and she shivered before melting against him. 

“And still, You continue to surprise me.” Solas murmured against her skin. “I fear, vhenan, I will never have enough of you, not enough by far. Your lovely curves and skin that glows, the sounds you make and moonlit hair. And still, that fades when placed beside your spirit. Each time I feel I know your soul, I find so much more of how deep you are. Layers upon layers you reveal. My magnificent emmeara. Ar lath ma, ma’lea’vune. ” 

He kissed her one last time, and withdrew, exiting the tent with his mask firmly in place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Here is the dialogue that took hours to write lol 
> 
> And still, you continue to surprise me. (The baffled king composing Hallelujah)  
> I fear, vhenan, (Hallelujah)  
> I will never (Hallelujah)  
> Have enough of you (Hallelujah)  
> Not enough by far. (Hallelujah)  
> Your lovely curves and skin that glows (Well your faith was strong but you needed proof)  
> The sounds you make and moonlit hair (You saw her bathing on the roof)  
> And still that fades when placed beside your spirit. (Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya)  
> Each time I feel I know your soul (She tied you to her kitchen chair)  
> I find so much more of how deep you go. (And she broke your throne and she cut your hair)  
> Layers upon layers you reveal. (And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah)  
> My magnificent (Hallelujah)  
> Emmeara. (Hallelujah)  
> Ar lath ma (Hallelujah)  
> Ma lea’vune, Vhenan. (Hallelujah)


	86. Bananas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok I decided you guys get two chapters today! This one is longer! Enjoy!

She managed to recount everything she could remember to Solas about Ameridan, Telana, and Hakkon. It was a little indistinct, but there was nothing for it. She hadn’t intended to change that, but if there was one thing that could be changed without destroying the timeline, it was that. If she could save his life…

But he would still lose Telana. And his time. He would be jumping hundreds of years into a future that was worse for the elves than the world he had left for them. And maybe… Death was an easier fate. To have your story finished. Maybe it was selfish to save him, to wish for someone who could empathize with losing their heart. 

The desert was strange. It was cold. Not as cold as Emprise, and a different kind of cold. After they left the Imperial Highway, the plains stuttered, grass growing more and more sparse with each hour they rode. Purple patches dotted the landscape amid the golden sands, and it felt as though the air was pulling moisture from her body, every breath desiccating, drying her lungs as the winds picked up, ripping the moisture away and chilling the skin. The sun beat down through the wind, both a blessing and a curse with each freezing gust. She quickly pulled out the sand colored head wrap, covering her mouth and shielding her face and ears from the sun, but even still she could feel the burn forming, through the thin fabric, skin both hot and cold.

It felt… Strange. Empty, but something echoed here. She felt it at the edge of her senses, a persistent nagging that disappeared when she focused on it. She found herself constantly turning, looking behind them like they were being followed, unable to relax, and she caught most of their group doing the same, no matter how much Bull in particular tried to shrug it off. Everyone was on edge, and the group’s banter became more bitter and scathing than it had in a while.

At night, the moaning of undead sounded, just outside the wards. Darkspawn waited, called to the pulsing life of their camp. 

Solas strengthened them, burning herbs in the fire he said would help. It stank, but it was too reassuring to mind, even with Sera's vociferous complaints. They made sure to camp long before nightfall, rubbing the salve they had picked up in Val Firmin onto the horses chapped noses, and their own.

Her mint, elfroot, and rose lip salve, a special recipe from her time with Lavellan, became a group staple, and she passed around the jar each evening. Solas was kind enough to heal sunburns, which was great, because even with the shawl she had brought, she burned every couple hours.

It was hard to fall asleep. The sense of unease carried over, settling into a thin sheen of adrenaline that was difficult to drop. Wind sighed against the canvas flaps, sometimes sounding like the shuffling of the blighted. They kept their weapons next to them as they slept, and it pained her to leave her gorgeous new recurve strung constantly, but there was nothing for it. She would have to trade it in when they returned to civilization. 

They slept later than usual as they worked through the desert, towards the camp where Harding waited. They let the sun rise and drive off the darkspawn and some of the chill, warming the air in their tents, offering a few blissful hours of easy sleep. She wished she knew what was happening in her other life, if the odd sleep patterns were affecting her there too. 

Thenera had always been a forest dweller, and the openness left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Still. There was a certain beauty, desolate and achingly honest in its barren struggle. The sun glinted off sand and blight alike, twisted brush and Deathroot, and the only secrets were the occasional flowers that bloomed, defiant in the colors of the sunset. At night, the dunes and craigs turned silver in the light of the moons, nearly glittering, eerie and alien and beautiful in its own way.

They ate meals of fried cacti and the occasional game, phoenixes and gurn and varghest when they could find them, making camp long before dark and halting their forward progress.

Days passed in a haze of sand and wind and patches of ominous purple before they reached the first Inquistion camp, and Scout Harding, by a small oasis. The fifth day. Thenera decided that they would split up to tackle what needed to be done and reconvene each evening from there out. They ate, finally regaining equilibrium as they adjusted to this new terrain, and Bull lamented the bananas of Thedas as they ate some banana bread Harding had brought from Skyhold. 

“Oh, Inquisitor. These have been waiting for you here, they arrived by raven a few days ago. And one for The Iron Bull.” Harding handed over a few scrolls, the usual correspondences with Ash and the Advisors, plus one with an unfamiliar seal. She took them with a nod of thanks and a small smile. She handed Bull’s over, and set the others aside for later. 

“Alright everyone. We have this gorgeous map of the area thanks to Scout Harding. We will travel together here, through the valley and across to the keep, where we will stake our claim and finally get some decent sleep.” 

“Praise the maker.” Cassandra said.

“From there we will split up. Harding, has Cullen sent men yet to help with the poison springs?”

“Yes Inquisitor! They arrived recently. I think they’re making their way into the valley now.”

“Thank you. You’re wonderful and I appreciate you.” She smiled, and the dwarf flushed adorably. She heard Sera giggle in the background and decided to ignore it for the moment. 

They ate dinner of smokey gurn over a fire they nearly encircled. Thenera made Dalish flatbread with spices and fat from the beast that made the edges crisp and sizzle in the pan, sprinkled with coarse salt from the Waking Sea. 

The fire felt good, windburned skin warmed, and Solas healed burns on everyone who needed it.

“I simply do not understand how the South can have such miserable weather!” Dorian said. “Freezing winds and burning sun! With patches of darkspawn taint littered about! How does anyone stand it?”

“Right?” Bull agreed. “I’m two steps from cutting glass here!”

Sera cackled.

“Oh. This is definitely going in the book.” Varric grinned.

“I did warn you.” Thenera answered, and Bull grumbled. 

“Does Tevinter not teach simple warming magic then?” Solas asked Dorian.

“Well there’s so rarely a need. Cooling, that I can do. Funny, considering how much I hate the cold.”

“You have such an affinity for fire. Focus on the warmth instead of the flame, and call it into yourself. You should be much more comfortable then.” Solas offered. “Just… Be careful not to set anything on fire. Including yourself.”

“Or your tunic?” Dorian responded wryly.

“Mages.” Bull grumbled. Sera nodded fervent approval.

“Yea. Keep that shite over there. Away from me.”

“I for one am quite grateful for their help.” Cassandra placated.

“Same. With a… Maybe unhealthy dash of jealousy.” Thenera admitted.

“You would choose to be a mage as well as an elf?” Blackwall asked, eyes wide before he snapped his mouth closed, and looked as though he might be about to apologize.

“Soooo elfy. Eaugh.”

“I… Do you ever get the feeling that a piece of yourself is missing? Like there's something, just out of reach, keeping you from being whole? I think… I think our ancestors were all mages. Sometimes I wonder if that's the piece. What it would be like to weave magic into my arrows? To warm streams to bathe each day, to light a campfire with a thought instead of toil? To be able to keep myself warm. Even if nothing else, it would be useful.” She shrugged. Solas stared at her intently, and Cassandra’s brows drew together. She opened her mouth to speak, but Sera got there first.

“You know Inky? I used to think you were kinda cute. But your head’s shoved up a thousand years ago just like Fade Boy there.” She made retching sounds. Thenera inclined her head in acknowledgement, with a smile.

“Well, you are kinda cute. Even though you hate ‘elfyness.’” She rummaged in the pack of fruit, ready for something sweet after the savory. “Peach? I don’t think you got the chance to give Blackwall that demonstration yet.”

Sera cackled, mollified, and took the fruit with glee. Thenera took an apricot for herself, and passed the bag around the group. Poor Blackwall was turning scarlet under his beard. 

“I already told you that’s not necessary!”

“Nah, but it’s fun!” She grinned. “Oh! But Vinty’s here if you need help with bananas. Or swords. Or whatever bits. Moustaches?”

“I would much rather not be involved in this, if you don’t mind.”

“As would I.” Blackwall said, gruffly.

“Well I guess if you need help with bananas. The ones in Par Vollen are superior.” Bull offered with a grin, pulling his own peach from the bag and passing it along, fruit looking tiny in his giant hands.

“I do not need help with bananas. Or swords.” He looked out helplessly at the group, looking for someone, anyone, to step in and save him. 

“Yea. I bet your grip is strong after being on your own for so long.” Bull winked. They laughed, even Solas smiling. 

He was still looking at her, still appraising as he slowly ate his fruit, which was unfair in oh so many ways, and a thrill ran through her each time she met his gaze. 

“Hey now. Time alone is good for a man. Or a dwarf. It’s, uh, centering.” Varric defended. “Or some bullshit like that.”

“I was alone a long time.” Cole said. “I don’t like it. This is better, laughter and light and barbs that worm deep but heal.”

“It’s creepy. Shut it up.”

“No Sera. Cole is wonderful just the way he is.”

Sera blew a raspberry in response, scrunching her brows.


	87. Sethera

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So life has gotten really hectic and I haven't had as much time to write. In the last six months I've had commissions to catch up on, had two international trips, and a few out of state ones as well. And it doesn't look like it's getting better for a while-I leave for another international trip this weekend, and will be out of state twice in October. The good news is that since the trip coming up is literally a 24 hour flight, there should be a lot of writing time on the plane! 
> 
> Also been struggling with writing the the upcoming chunk, but I think I finally got it. 
> 
> Quick question though... More smut soon? How much smut? Because... I could add one more chapter in the Western Approach.... But there's gonna be some in the Oasis. Which.... Maaaay be right after this. Will have to look at my timeline and see how we're doing.

“Emmeara.” Solas greeted when she entered their tent, and he brushed the hair that had come free from the braid away before kissing her gently. “Are you burned anywhere else?”

“Would you like to check?” She asked, quirking a brow at him. His eyes crinkled in mirth.

“Perhaps I would.” He replied.

“Oh, well then I suppose I should oblige you.” She grinned. Slowly, she began removing armor, and then the sand colored linens she had made, and finally, the warmth layers, until she stood before him in just her smalls. “Will this suffice, Vhenan?”

“For now.” He said. He called his magic into his hands, blue glow suffusing the tent as he checked over her skin, gliding just close enough that she could feel his mana brushing against her, and she shivered.

“You can feel that? What is it you feel, Vhenan?” He asked. He took one of her hands and began brushing mana up her arms. Her eyes fluttered shut.

“It… Feels like when someone doesn’t quite touch you, but you can still feel their energy and warmth. But… more. More personal. More like _you_ and not just someone. I don’t… It’s another sense. Closest to touch, but I feel like I can smell it too, and taste it. And there’s… Memories, almost like… Nostalgia woven into it.”

“There was once a term for that, in Elvhen. _Sethera_. You are correct that it was considered a separate sense. It amazes me that you, a non mage, can feel it.” He traced his fingers up, along the ridges of her collarbones and across her neck, and she choked back a moan.

“Sethera…” She repeated. “Yours… reminds me of old places and the possibilities that hide under the dust. Of naps in the sunshine as a breeze plays across your face. Passion tempered with wisdom and… Funny enough, tea.”

“Can you tell me what that tea smells like?” He asked, far more seriously than she would have expected. She swallowed, and tried to concentrate on it.

“It’s… Light. Like the freshest baby leaves brewed for just a few moments, with something like clover? Maybe chamomile? There’s a… stickiness to it. A hint of honey? The steam wreathes up and settles in your nose, until it’s the only smell there is…”

She pulled back suddenly, shaking herself from it. The longer she focused on it the more cloying it felt.

“Ah, yes. That was a special recipe I had far too much of when I was younger. I’m afraid it has contributed greatly to my disdain for the stuff.”

Oh. The uthenera mixture. How long had it taken him to stop needing it, to reach what they had once called ‘perfection?’ Or had he needed it all these long years, counting on attendants to keep his body living as he wandered the Fade? She glanced at him, and his expression was strange. He withdrew from her, and she caught his hand and brought it to her lips.

“I’m sorry. To have tea ruined for you is a truly terrible fate.” She said with a small smile, trying to pull him from his thoughts. He offered a halfhearted one in response.

“Yes, clearly the worst fate imaginable.” He responded dryly. “And we should get some rest. We have a keep to take tomorrow, if your estimate is correct.”

She nodded, and they turned towards the bedroll.

Which was lumpy.

And the lumps were moving.

Solas pulled back the covers to reveal half a dozen smallish lizards and Thenera let out an uncontrollable peal of laughter as the creatures began running towards various corners of the tent, their peace and warmth disturbed.

“Sera.” Solas said as a curse, even as his strange mood broke. Giggles burbled up and out of Thenera, building into something uncontrollable, and through tears of laughter, she helped Solas round the beasts up and deposit them safely outside. By the time they finally lay down, a small smile curved on his gorgeous lips, and he kissed her forehead before extinguishing the candle’s light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo I made a new Elvhen word! Sethera-the tangible sense of magic, which was then bastardized to Setheran, which is canon for a place where the veil is thin!


	88. Loss

The battle to take the keep was bloody, as usual. The use of the mark was becoming more familiar, a little less… Emptying feeling. They scoured the fortress after raising the Inquisition flag, collecting the bodies and starting the pyre. 

Once that grim task was done, it was time to explore. They found a couple casks of water to clean up with, and then split into groups to search, Bull and Solas with Thenera.

“I sense an ancient Elvhen artifact nearby.” Solas said as they reached the top of a set of stairs. _You’re an ancient Elvhen artifact nearby_. She bit down on the words, nodding assent with a small smile she couldn't share instead. She turned to the left, into a small alcove, and spotted it. She focused on the anchor and pulled, just a split second, a pinprick, and the device flared to life, casting a green glow across the shadows of the room.

“Hey Boss? Looks like we got incoming.” Bull said, returning from the overlook around a corner. She inclined her chin in acknowledgement, and followed him back out to the ledge. 

Sure enough, a mismatched company was approaching. Her brows drew together. It wasn’t Inquisition people. 

“Oh shit, I know those assholes!” Bull cried, a grin stretching his face. “Those are my assholes!”

She squinted, and the familiar lines of Krem’s armor jumped into focus, and a few spotted details. There, Dalish’s crystal on top of her bow. The Chargers!

Wait. The Chargers weren’t supposed to be here. Why were they? Bull let out a whoop when they were close enough to see him, a crew of misfits raising horns in salute, and they jogged down the stairs to open the portcullis immediately.

“Hey Chief! Harding said we’d find you here!” Krem called as he entered. A hearty round of hugs were exchanged, and Thenera headed off to see if there was a cask somewhere around. They would want one for sure. 

The keep’s stores were decently robust, including a treasured pantry of spices and salt pork, and a small herb garden on one of the terraces that seemed a bit overgrown, but the thyme, sage, and rosemary had flourished. After a bit more rooting about, she managed to find a couple casks, but there was no saying what was in them. 

She passed back by the courtyard and found Bull and Krem sparring, and some sense of warning lit up. Bull wasn’t one to spar on days they had already exerted themselves heavily. Unless he was stressed. Great.

“Hey Boss. A word?” Bull called out to her as she passed. Thenera nodded and picked up her pace, winding her way down the stairs. “I got a letter from my contacts in the Ben Hassrath. Already verified with Red.”

Oh. Oh damn. Time for this choice already. She swallowed, and nodded as Krem continued.

“We came to bring Chief the news from the Spymaster.” Krem supplied. “Didn’t want anything getting intercepted.”

“That’s why you’re the Krem of the crop!” Bull replied, and Krem groaned as Bull went in for a shield bash, and Krem was knocked back, hard. He barely managed not to fall on his ass.

“Ah, come on, Krem! I’m working my ass off to try and get you to see that move!”

“You’ve still got plenty of ass left, chief. Uh, apologies, your worship.” He shot a guilty glance at Thenera.

“Cut that ‘your worship’ shit, Thenera is fine.” She countered. 

“Yea don’t worry about her. Boss has a dirtier mouth than you most days.” Bull said, raising a brow suggestively, making his eyepatch bobble on his face. Krem returned a thoughtful look, a wry smile on his lips.

“Alright then. Thenera. That’ll take some getting used to, but I’ll give it a shot.” 

“Thanks.”

“Anyways, about that letter…” Bull hinted. He shifted on his feet, and she suddenly realized just how hard he was posturing. For the barest of seconds, his smile was wooden, hollow. Scared.

“Oh, right. Tell me.”

“The Ben Hassrath have been reading my reports. They don’t like Corypheus or his Venatori. And they _really_ don’t like red lyrium.” He said.

“Whyever not? I love the stuff myself.” She replied dryly. He let out a huff of an almost laugh that almost reached his eyes. 

“They’re ready to work with us. With you, Boss. The Qunari and the Inquisition, joining forces.” An edge backed his voice. One she might not have noticed if she didn’t know to listen for it. Krem heard it too, she guessed. Maybe one of the reasons he had come in person. Definitely would need to open one of those casks tonight.

“Oh? No plans for domination then? We can all be friends and hold hands? That sounds just like the Qunari.” She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Now, ordinarily, your sarcasm would be right on the money. I mean, domination is a favorite pastime of the Qunari, and me. But they’ve identified themselves. They’re not running a game on you. They’ve found a massive red lyrium shipping operation out on the coast.” Bull raised his shield again, and Krem followed suit. Thenera crossed her arms, watching.

“They want us to hit it together. Talked about bringing in one of their dreadnoughts. Always wanted to see one of those big warships in action.” Krem said with a grin.

Oh. He’d get to see it in action alright. Get to see it go down too. Bull charged again, doing some sort of move that definitely would have knocked Thenera on her ass if it landed, and Krem managed to only be knocked back a little this time.

“Did you see _that_? Go get some water.” Bull reprimanded. Krem gave a chagrined look and wandered off, and Bull turned back to Thenera. The edge was rougher, his voice low and hard. Something he was worried about Krem seeing. “They’re worried about tipping the smugglers, so no army. My Chargers, you, maybe some backup.”

“Bull, you ok?” She asked, putting a hand on his arm, and looked up at him. He dropped his gaze a little too quickly, pulling back from the contact.

“Yea, I’m good. It’s, uh… I’m used to them being _over there_. It’s been a while.” 

“It’ll be ok. Promise.”

“Uh. Thanks. We should be fine. It’s not like they’re converting. The Qun is a good life for a lot of people. But it’s a big change. A lot of folks here wouldn’t do so well under that kind of life. But this is just joining forces against Corypheus. On that front, I think we’re good.”

“Alright. Send word. We can head that way after we hit the ball and whatever crazy warden shit is happening here.”

“Sounds good Boss.”

With a start, she remembered her own letters from the previous day, and headed to her tent to address them. There was still a few hours of daylight left, though the fight had been tiring. She entered the canvas walls and sat, cracking open the seals to the usual Inquisition business and replying, and then finally, opening the one from her clan. 

_Thenera,_

_I wish I had better news. We lost only a couple, praise Andruil. Athras, and Laisa. I know you were close with Athras a few years ago. I know you cared very much for him, and I know Laisa was once one of the da’len you cared for. I am so, so sorry. You have enough to do as is, saving the world and all. I am sorry to add to your burden. I know it’s heavy._

_Thank you for sending troops to our aid. The bandits were determined, and your soldiers seem to think it was at the Duke’s behest. That’s still so strange to say, your soldiers._

_Hopefully it’s the last of the trouble here. The Duke has insisted we’re welcome to stay, and it seems that your people were given orders to stay as well. I’m grateful for it, though they made me nervous at first._

_There’s more news, and the good kind, but I will save that for another letter. Just know that not everything is bleak, even in the face of… this._

_I won’t ask you to be ok. It’s alright if you aren’t. I hope this letter reaches you with time to mourn._

_Love you always,_

_Ashataralyn_

Thenera sat back on her bedroll and blinked against tears. Athras was gone? And Laisa? That… Didn’t make any sense. She had sent troops to help them. Her clan should be fine. They were supposed to be fine. And him? One of the strongest men she’d known, who had seen more than anyone should have to. Someone she had loved once. Who would take off for months at a time to travel and scout areas where their clan would be welcome next, and always come back with amazing stories and new recipes. And Laisa, whose Vallaslin had been fresh when she left. She had taught her how to shoot a bow, how to feel the target and aim with your intent instead of peering down the arrow. Who had chosen Andruil’s vallaslin, in white to complement her golden skin. 

She could have done more. Should have done more for her clan, her kin. She swallowed back her tears. She didn’t have any right to them, any right to mourn. And there wasn’t any time for it. 

She pushed the heels of her hands into her eyes, pushing back the grief, and quickly scribbled a letter to Cullen, to add to the small pile of correspondence back to the advisors.

_Commander~_

_I hope things are well at Skyhold. Thank you for sending troops to the aid of my clan. You saved many of their lives, but we still lost two. One who was once very close to me, and one who was barely more than a child. Please, if at all possible, send reinforcements. Send them as if they were protecting your own family from those who would rather see them dead than alive. Please._

_~Thenera Lavellan_

She blew on the ink softly, impatiently, drumming her fingers against armor. As quickly as she could without risking the ink smudging, she sealed it, and exited the tent and handed the bundle off to a scout. She couldn’t respond to Ash yet. Not yet.

“Dorian, Varric, Cole, Bull. With me, we’re going to go take care of the water situation.” She said sharply.

“Hey Boss, it’s getting a little late in the day to be riding out into the desert don’t you think?” Bull asked.

“We need clean water.”

“We have enough to get us through another two days, we can certainly wait until tomorrow for this, Lavellan.” Cassandra said, pausing in sharpening her sword. “Taking the keep was quite exhausting.”

Thenera clenched her jaw and let out a breath, attempting to sort out what to say. Or maybe she could just go on her own and blow off some steam that way. Sitting quietly tonight was not going to be an option.

“We meet with Hawke tomorrow, remember Seeker?” Varric shot her. Thenera gave him a grateful look. 

“Water, washing, washed away. You hope it will clean you. It won’t bring them back, but might help. I will go with you.” Cole offered, standing and moving closer, offering a comforting presence. She blinked and swallowed, jerking her head in a nod. Cassandra’s gaze sharpened, looking Thenera up and down with a Seeker’s scrutiny, and then softened. She dipped her head in a nod and turned back to her sword.

“I will be happy to assist.” Solas said smoothly, concern carefully masked in his eyes. 

“Sure.” She answered flatly. Dorian rose, curious, and nodded, and Bull and Varric followed suit. She turned with another sharp, jerky movement and led them down the stairs and out of the gate of the keep, mounting their horses. The pyre of the previous occupants still burned, black smoke rising sluggishly to be swept away by freezing winds. 

More death. 

Always. Death around her. Aravas carried her out, plodding through the sand as they left the keep. And it took this, took someone she had cared so much for, for her to feel anything about it. What was broken inside her?

“It’s not like that.” Cole offered. “You find fleeting moments, fortunate, and they make a mark. You know how quickly it can leave. It’s not wrong to be happy.”

She cast him a sad smile and didn’t say anything, continuing to ride through the sand, Aravas’ gait jarring, halting, as each step sunk and sprayed sand. 

“You think you should be more like me. Help the hurt. But you help so many. You’re only meant to be yourself.”

“I should have been able to save him. Save them both.” She retorted. 

“You should know by now you can’t save everyone.” Bull said. “It sucks, but that’s what life is. We do what we can, and try our damndest to let the rest go.”

“Who was it?” Dorian asked, as quiet as could still be heard over the buffeting gale.

“Someone I… Was involved with several years ago. Someone I loved. We were better friends than we were lovers, but... My clan was attacked by bandits. Hired by the fucking Duke of Wycombe. I sent reinforcements, but we still lost two.” She scowled at no one in particular.

“Shit. Can’t seem to catch a break huh?” Varric said.

“Shit is right. And I don’t even… I don’t have any right to be upset _except_ blaming myself. It’s been years since we were close. And… fuck, nearly a year since we’d had a conversation? If it had been me… I wouldn’t have thought of him in the first dozen people who needed to be told. I just… Fuck!” She yelled out into the wind, letting it tear the words away from her. “The other one… Laisa. She was not even twenty. I taught her to hunt, to cook, to find herbs and what foods they went best with.”

“You care very deeply.” Solas said. “You are allowed to mourn. You are allowed to feel. We are all here to lighten your burden as much as possible.”

“Yea Boss. These muscles aren’t just for fighting dragons. They’re for lifting spirits. And fighting dragons.” 

“Thanks. Let’s kill some shit, shall we?”


	89. Burdens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER MARKS 100K!!! 
> 
> Guys. I am amazed I've gotten this far. Like. Amazed. This is now like 10x longer than anything I've ever written previously. And I'm back to writing more regularly, and found a doc that does html conversion so it should be a lot easier to post!

“I cannot believe the Grey Wardens could even conceive of such a thing!” Solas’ voice was loud, furious, bouncing off stones and echoing. “To seek out these Old Gods deliberately in some bizarre attempt to preempt the blight!”

Tent too confining for this, Thenera sat, perched on one of the crenellations of the keep while Solas paced. It was a quiet corner, the troops had not yet arrived to fill it to bustling and bursting. Thenera cast her voice low, soothing. Too low to be overheard.

“Don’t worry Vhenan, we will stop them. We have whatever time we need to do it, they will never succeed.” She said. His pacing halted, and she tucked one of her feet under her, unable to sit normally for very long.

“You… You are so certain?” He asked, a stuttering hope in his voice, even as his brows drew together.

“Yes.” She reassured.

“Thank you. I’ve been on my own for so long. It’s difficult to get used to having the support of others.” He met her gaze, brows furrowed, searching hers for something before his mind returned to the wardens. “Those fools and duty. Responsibility is not expertise. Action is not inherently superior to inaction.”

“True. But we’ll stop it. Just… Have to go through some more shitty stuff to do it.” She offered him a wry smile, and his head tilted to the side as though he just needed to look at the right angle to see her secrets. She glanced down, worried her face would give her away. Walking the Fade. What would change if Solas knew ahead of time? Would he find a way to tear down the veil early? What else would it impact? Best not to let him know. And then… She would sacrifice Stroud. She set her jaw, muscles clenching.

“Forgive me, Emmeara. The entire idea is… Unnerving.” He scanned her face again before turning away, anger fading to worry.

“Do you know more about the blights? Something you might have seen in the Fade?” She asked, knowing he would. Hoping he might tell her more, tell her something new.

“The Fade is many wondrous things, but it is not a crystal ball for every question you might have. If only that were the case, I would be the wisest man in Thedas.” He deflected.

“Are you admitting you aren’t?” She teased, raising a brow.

“Hardly. I have made mistake after mistake. I consulted Wisdom regularly in the hopes I could minimize future mistakes, and I fear that now she is lost, I am as well. I now only have my own guidance, and yours to rely upon.” Sorrow mingled with the other emotions on his face, and he turned a rueful smile to Thenera.

“Flatterer.” She replied.

“We shall truly overcome this madness?”

“Yes ma’fen. I don’t know when. There will be a siege, and blood and smoke and death. There will be sacrifice.” She scrubbed her hands over her face and pulled her knees up, hugging them. “We’ll get there as soon as we can, but we will have whatever time we need.”

She offered him a small smile, one that was exhausted with the weight of what was still to be lost, and the secrets that filled the space between them, pushing and staining them both. If only she could know what he knew. If only they could be truly open with each other.

If only this path didn’t ask for everything she had to give and more.

The evening drew on, sunset pinks and oranges seeming to set the sand on fire, and she spared a few moments to watch, between preparing dinner and letting Bull cook. His cooking was always hearty and filling and good. Nothing fancy, but nothing to complain about. Which was good, because her thoughts kept drifting, kept filling with all the things left unsaid.

“Vhenan, come with me.” Solas said after dinner, catching her hand as she headed to their tent. She turned, cocking her head to one side, and then nodded. The words rang in a strange way, almost the words that led to their end. _Come with me Vhenan_. But not quite. They still had time. Hopefully a lot still. He smiled, reassuring, and she pushed the worry off of her face.

There was too much. There was too much darkness everywhere she turned. Death, difficult choices where lives hung in the balance. And no time to process. No time to grieve. No time to let it go. Just that day, there had been darkspawn and demons and… It was obvious Varric missed Hawke terribly, and Hawke in turn seemed oblivious, offering little more than a darkly wry smile before leaving again, to go to Adamant. They were close, it was obvious. More like family, and it cast his relationship with Thenera in stark contrast. It stung, though she would never begrudge him that closeness. She just wished she could share it instead of being a statue holding bowls of fire.

Solas tugged on her hand, pulling her from her thoughts as he led her down the many stairs of the keep. Why were there so many freaking stairs everywhere? Fendhis.

He pulled out the ring they had found in Dirthavaren, the one she had gifted to him. It didn’t work for her; the magic needed, well, magic to spark it into action, and she could think of no other mage she wanted to protect quite as much. Even if it was irrational. Even if he was technically an Elvhen god. And technically her people’s villain.

He kept it close, not sliding it on, and they made their way out into the sands, feet making barely any sound as they crept through the cold, wind howling and whistling through the canyons. Or was it Darkspawn? She wasn’t sure, and didn’t want to find out. Where was he taking her? And why? She stayed quiet, keeping her eyes open as they skirted around a pair of Quillbacks, downwind and out of sight.

They walked in silence until he led her down to the small oasis where the Varghests had once been. He put his finger to his lips as she opened her mouth in question, and she nodded acquiescence, watching him cast wards with interest.

“There. That should suffice.” He declared.

“What are we doing here? It’s freezing and there might be creepy crawlies just around the corner.”

“And yet you trusted me enough to follow me here, through treacherous terrain, in the dark, without warning a soul where we were going.” He replied, a small smile curling on his face.

“Well. You aren’t wrong about that.”

“Why thank you for that. Now. We are here for a very simple reason. I thought you might enjoy a bath.” He waved his hand and cast a heat rune beneath one of the pools. She swallowed, emotions filling up and brimming over, and she attempted to blink back tears.

“Thank you.” She managed. “There’s just… So much, and it feels like I can’t afford to stop. There’s so much at stake and so much darkness and horror everywhere we turn. And there’s no time to stop. All we get are these little pauses.”

“Thenera. The power you carry is a great burden and responsibility, one that can only be carried by you. For that, I am sorry. You will need to bolster your strength, to carry a sustainable pace.”

She hung her head, dismayed, trying to reinforce her armor before he could see it crack.

“Yea. I know. I’m trying.”

“No. You are not. You are pushing yourself to madness. This is not sustainable. In fact, it is a miracle you have not collapsed from exhaustion alone yet. You know better than I what is to come. And we cannot face it if we exhaust all reserves before then. We have seen terrors and wonders already, we have found ruins not beheld by many since the days of Elvhenan. Darkness looms now. We have seen those we care for die senselessly for someone’s prejudice. The threat of a demon army and the mad plan of the Wardens. It must be stopped. And yet somehow, through all the madness, every scrap of darkness, every secret and every tragedy, we have this one small miracle. We have found each other. We have found hope. I believe it was you who said we should enjoy it fully for as long as it can last.”

Her dam broke. She sobbed, nodding. He pulled her into an embrace, tucking her head under his chin and letting her cry into his shoulder, and she sagged against him. He held her there, one hand cradling her skull as his thumb rubbed soothing strokes behind her ear, until she quieted.

“We have time. We do. I just can’t shake the feeling that I can be doing more. That the faster we go, the quicker we can go through the steps to face Corypheus, the more people I can save. I don’t want to think about all the people that have lost those they care about because of me. Because I didn’t move quickly enough, because I did things in the wrong order, because I skipped parts and left them to die. I feel like I need to rush, to get through this. But I will never be able to save everyone. The best I can do is most, and I hate it. I hate being weak.” She murmured against him, pulling back to wipe at her face.

“I am uncertain anyone could accuse you of such a thing, Emmeara. But you are correct in one thing. You cannot save everyone. Only madness lies in thinking you must.” Solas replied, pulling back from her to gaze into her eyes, intense in the silver light of the moons, dancing slivers of fire from the rune lighting them eerily. “The water should be ready now. May I?”

He motioned to her armor and she nodded response.

“Please, sit Vhenan.” He motioned her to a nearby rock, and she did. He knelt before her, slowly unbuckling each piece, prying it off with such care and devotion it nearly hurt. He carefully slid off the linen wrappings, unwinding the scarf from her neck, and then the tunic. He unlaced her boots with care, sliding them off, pulling her woolen socks partway off and puffy.

It reminded her of the time in Redcliffe, suddenly, with a pang. Of him patting her dry after she had nearly been killed.

“Remember?”

“Yes.” He answered, nearly interrupting her in his haste to answer. “That was the night I realized I was doomed to love you. I wanted to kiss the droplets of water off your legs. They looked like glittering crystals against your skin.”

“Doomed, you say?”

“Doomed. Your name beats here now. Ma Vhenan. Thenera.” He met her gaze, and took her hand, placing it over his heart, and she smiled.

“I know just what you mean.”

A fresh gust of wind blew through the canyon, and she began shivering. Solas was startled from his reverie, as though he had forgotten that it was cold, and rose.

“Ah yes. Let us get in before you freeze.” She nodded and began stripping the rest of her clothes off rapidly as the steam rose from the water nearby, terribly inviting. She looked back to Solas, questioning, and saw he was removing his clothes as well, muscles gliding under skin and catching the moonlight. She pulled off her smalls and ran for the water, wind icy against skin that had already been cold before she stripped.

She yelped at the first step in, heat shocking against frozen toes, and then sighed in happiness and more melted than climbed the rest of the way in. Her eyes drifted shut subconsciously, which was too bad once she heard soft splashing behind her, and turned to see Solas nearly waist deep, steam curling around him.

Fendhis, he was beautiful. She could hardly imagine how she hadn’t found him attractive the first time she saw him. So many sharp bits, cheekbones, jaw, brows, ears. His abs… And then there were the surprisingly soft parts, the graceful slope of his arms, the curve of his head, his lips… The lovely lines at his hips that led her eyes down into the water that glowed orange with his rune.

“Thenera, you’re staring.”

“In my defense… You’re very easy to stare at.”

“Even… Like this? I am not especially… Or rather, in my younger days, I was much more…” He searched for the right words.

“Hot blooded and cocky?” She met his gaze and quirked a brow.

“Well. Yes. And had more care with my appearance.”

“Oh? Is that why you left your village to the North? Too many broken hearts? Did you have to tone it down to give everyone else a chance?”

“Not precisely. Not entirely incorrect either.”

“Ah…. Two former heartbreakers in love.” She grinned.

“Are you so certain about the ‘former’ aspect, Vhenan?” He countered darkly, a low rumble in his voice.

“Fine. Allow me to amend that. Two heartbreakers, taking a break from breaking hearts, in love.” She gave him a half smile, raising one brow in challenge, and he tilted his head, acquiescing with a slight nod.

She shivered as the heat worked through her chilled skin, where sweat had risen in the heat of battle only to freeze as it dried as the adrenaline faded, a cycle that left her feeling half crystalline with salt. The water stripped it now as steam curled around her, and she glided towards Solas.

“I suppose we are that.” He responded, eyes crinkling in mirth, and he opened his arms as she reached him. She tucked herself against his side, wrapping one arm around his neck as she floated against him, buoyant in the water. One of his arms cradled her back, and the other hand came to rest at her waist, and she trailed her fingertips across the arm in front of her. His skin raised in fadebumps where her touch passed over it, despite the heat, and his eyelids fluttered, just barely, trying to maintain control. Her heart sped watching him, feeling his skin against hers, feeling the warmth that was only partly related to the warmth he had made for her. The gentle orange glow of the rune ebbed and flowed as the water swirled around it, casting dancing light across them both.

“You are beautiful, you know.” She murmured against him, meeting his eyes. His laugh lines had gotten a little deeper since they met, the crinkles around his eyes stronger, and the line that used to mar the space between his brows had lightened.

“My body serves an important purpose, but the form is far less important to me. I am glad you find it pleasing, however… It is you whose form is the finest sculpture of fluid grace, of moonlight captured in flesh.”

“We can both be pretty, it’s fine.”

“Thenera. Have you not noticed? You are glowing.” With a small motion of his fingers, he released the heat rune. The stars seemed to jump into brightness, into focus, and the moon that was visible illuminated everything with a soft silver light. She looked down at her skin, and found that it was, in fact, nearly glowing, silvery blue in the light, a couple shades paler than his, which looked silvery.

“Oh.” She answered, and he smiled. “I do that sometimes. If there’s enough light from the stars and moons. If I haven’t gotten too much sun. I am so grateful for your sunburn spell.”

“Ma’lea’vune.” He murmured, shifting her weight onto one arm so he could bring the other to her face. “Allow me to help. We are both lone creatures, used to carrying our burdens. But you are teaching me it mustn’t always be so. We both must set them down occasionally. Allow me to help.”

She nodded, throat too thick for words, clinging to him. She swallowed.

“It’s… It’s really alright for me to be squishy? You aren’t… You don’t expect me to be just the person I show everyone else? I can be more than that with you? You won’t… You won’t realize I’m really just weak and leave me?”

“Thenera. You should be exactly yourself. The person you are around others is a part of you I admire, but these moments, the ones where we stand unguarded before each other. The ones where we are allowed to collapse, to grieve, to take a much needed respite… These are the ones I cherish, and I am constantly struck by your resilience. You can be as weak as you need to be. It will never change how strong you are.”

Her eyes welled, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, and he held her. He let her be as weak as she needed to, and she cried. She cried for her past, the things she had to dredge up. For everyone who had been taken by the Red Templars in Emprise. She cried for the feeling of Red Lyrium against her skin, a feeling too familiar. For the arm she would lose and what she might have traded to keep it. For Varric, seeing her as some idol instead of the prisoner elf he had once offered friendship. For Dirthavaren, and the elves of Montsimmard. For Laisa. For Athras. For Wisdom. For Haven.

And finally, for the fact that this didn’t change what would happen in the end. Solas would still leave. It may not be because of this. But he would, and she might not be able to change it. And it would be worth it. If he left tomorrow, it would be worth it. Everything. All the prices that had been paid, and all the ones she knew were coming, were worth it to kill Coryphytits and his dragon. To have known this.

The water was beginning to cool by the time her tears dried, leaving her feeling spent and hollow, but calm. A shiver worked through her as the water lapped, cooler than her skin, and Solas renewed the rune beneath them.

“Thank you. Ar lath, ma Vhenan.” Her voice came out hoarse, and she wiped at her face.

“Ar lath, ma Vhenan.” He returned. “May I help you wash your hair?

“Of course.” She replied, with a small smile that wasn’t forced, wasn’t posturing.

  
He coaxed her to lay back in the water, beginning to warm up again, and he carefully worked her hair out of the braid she had worn it in.

She floated, golden light heating her back and casting strange lights on the rocks above, and Solas moved to stand above her head, deft fingers working through her hair and against her scalp as her eyes drifted shut. She could feel the sweat and dirt falling away, and she closed her eyes, listening to the water rushing in her ears as it moved. She heard footsteps walk away, booming strangely through the water, and she roused herself to see Solas leaving the pool and digging through the pockets of one pack.

The light from the moon shone down on his back, on his thighs, his beautiful ass. He pulled something small from his pack and turned, walking back to rejoin her. Her breath caught as she watched him. Elven glory indeed.

“You are still staring.”

“Yea… Would you believe me if I said I was trying not to?” She asked, attempting contrite, and his lips curled into a smirk.

“Most likely not.”

He reentered the water, steam swirling and curling around him, glowing orange and casting dancing shadows across his beautiful canvas.

“Then I won’t say it.” She said, watching.

“I got you a gift. While we were in Val Firmin. There was an elven family selling soaps, as their family has for generations. This one is meant for hair. They use rose oil in it, may I?” He held the bar out, and she ran her fingers over the soft square, the smell of roses meeting her nose. He had made time to get her this. To bring her here, to offer her this gift. She nodded, and he smiled. “Lay back.”

“Ma nuvenin. Thank you.” She replied, and stretched back out in the heat. He began working the lather into her hair, the smell bringing back memories both blissful and traumatizing.

Her knife wasn’t within reach, but she had Solas. She didn’t have to do everything herself. She couldn’t. She took a deep breath, savoring the smell of her favorite flower and the safety of this moment. The feel of his hands working against her scalp. Warmth filled her as she floated, weightless, in the hands of someone who loved her.


	90. Dragon Shaped Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had way too much fun with the banter in this chapter, so I hope you enjoy it too!

It took a week for the keep to fill with Inquisition soldiers and scouts, and supplies. She had taken Solas’ advice, and the days had been more leisurely, though still productive. Weird frozen rift shit had been sorted, Venatori had been taken out, darkspawn tunnels sealed, and giants fought. And they had a shiny new staff for Solas, which she hoped would be a help against the dragon, considering it was ice based.

“To quote Varric, well, shit. No chance you can translate this Dorian?” She turned to him, caught off guard by the manuscript in ancient Tevene. Something she hadn’t remembered at all.

“Don't look at me! Might as well be ancient Elvhen for all I can read it.”

“Solas?” She asked. If it was a no, it meant no dragon hide to send to Dagna. They should be ready to face the dragon now. Probably.

“I'm unsure why you would ask me about ancient Tevene.” He answered cautiously.

“Maybe you learned it in the Fade?” She asked hopefully.

“Ah. I may have seen enough to help. I could perhaps take a look and see what parts are decipherable.” He took the volume from the startled draconologist with a slight nod. “I might be able to make an educated guess at portions. We will most likely still need to find an expert in the field for more detailed information.”

“Aren't you just full of surprises!” Dorian’s brows seemed ready to merge with his hairline, they had shot so far up his face.

“Perhaps if you had focused on focused on more academic pursuits instead of throwing fire.” Solas responded dryly, sliding the volume into his pack and throwing Frederic a small nod in thanks. They turned away and began trudging back through the sand to the nearest camp.

“Ah yes. I should surely focus more on esoteric knowledge and naps in crumbling ruins. That is certain to aid our dear Inquisitor more than creating a wall of fire between her and demons bent on her destruction.” Dorian sniffed, spreading his hands dramatically before burrowing back into his scarf, boots clomping morosely.

“And how _are_ your healing skills coming along, Dorian?” Solas retorted, clasping his hands behind his back in the exact way to infuriate the other mage, and Thenera winced.

“Really? Please. No using my ineptness as some sort of measuring stick. I mean, you know just how much I like my fragility thrown in my face. If you must, just go ahead and whip ‘em out. I have a measuring cord at camp.”

“I apologize, Vhenan.” He ducked his head in a contrite gesture, lips curled in a small smile for having gotten the last word in.

“My barriers are perfectly serviceable.” Dorian huffed.

“Dorian.” Thenera chided.

“Yes of course. You’re incredibly strong and powerful and there’s no need to even have us with you.” He said, dismissively waving a hand before folding his arms over his chest.

“Damn straight.” She said, crossing her arms and arching a brow.

“Straight? How ghastly.” Dorian sniffed

“That’s why damn straight. Praise gay. Or bi, or whatever.”

“Whatever is my favorite, Boss.” Bull chimed in with a wink. Dorian flushed, adorably, and went silent.


End file.
